“I shouldn’t have blurted that out, but—”
And just like that, his smile fades. “You shouldn’t have?”
“I’m doing this wrong. I’m messing it up. See? This is what happens when I don’t have data and charts and presentations and note cards and time to freaking practice. I’m not like you, Caleb. I can’t just wing shit. I can’t rely on my inherent charm and killer smile. I am a planner. And I should have planned this better. This should be special. We should be having a moment right now, and instead, I’m standing in my very tiny kitchen, panicking.”
His brow is furrowed, but that mischievous gleam is back in his eye. “And just what kind of moment should we be having?” he asks.
And here, in my too-small kitchen, and without my note cards, I lay myself bare. “The kind of moment where I tell you I love you.”
He’s still, and I can’t believe I’ve rendered Caleb Whitman speechless. Just as the thought crosses my brain, his lips are on mine. His hands span my waist as he lifts me up onto the counter.
“Say it again, Lucy,” he asks, peppering soft, sweet kisses along my jaw.
“I love you. I have for so long. And we’re dating. And I was foolish to pretend otherwise. You’re my favorite person, Caleb. I text you all day long. And when I’m not texting you, I’m thinking about it. Or I’m talking to you. Or fantasizing about you. You flew a thousand miles just to give me a hug. What’s that, if it isn’t love?”
“That’s exactly what it is, Lucy. It’s love.”
I shake my head and rub my eyes to keep the tears from falling. “I was so scared before. Scared to admit it. Scared someone would find out. And, honestly, I’m still a little nervous.” I shrug. “Change is hard for me. But you’re worth it. I won’t let this be a secret anymore, Caleb.”
“You can tell the whole damn world that I love you, Lucy,” he tells me as he lifts me up and carries me to my bedroom.
* * *
Whit
It’s Sunday night and this has easily been the best weekend of my life. So much so that I switched my flight so I’m heading out at seven tomorrow morning. That means I’ll miss my Stats class. But Booker will fill me in, and I can't make myself leave.
We’ve been totally lazy today, and it’s been pretty fucking awesome. I haven’t even cooked. Takeout is our new best friend so I can devote all my energy to backrubs that lead to front rubs that lead to amazing sex. Every time with Lucy it’s like a goddamn religious experience.
Right now, we’re mostly naked in her bed, and I don’t think I’ll be able to move for a solid half hour.
“It’s crazy, you know. This time last year, you and I weren’t really talking. I mean, I saw you at that New Year’s party, but we didn’t exchange any words. And at this time last year, Phoebe was still living at her mom’s house, wondering if she’d ever get out and live her own life. Hell, Willa was about a week from giving birth to Rose. So much has changed,” I tell her, looking into her eyes. But the gaze that reflects back at me is sad. “It’s a good thing, Lucy. It’s been a good year.”
“It has, but…”
Suddenly, I realize the source of her hesitation. Just a little over a year ago, I’d been a wreck. Even more of a wreck than usual. I couldn’t get my meds regulated, and in a fit of desperation and desolation, I took way more than my recommended dose. My intent hadn’t been to do any permanent harm. It was more like I was spacey and forgot I’d taken them. Then I started to think they’d help me sleep, and fuck, how I wanted to sleep, so I took some more. Booker was the first one to find me, and though I was damn near out of my mind, I’ll never forget the stark look of terror on his face.
A similar look is staring back at me now.
“I’m better now, Lucy, I promise. I’ll never give you any reason to—”
She stops me with a finger to my lips. “That’s not what I meant. I meant I was scared for you. Sad for you. I almost messaged you, but who does that? Who says, I was your summer fling a couple years ago, and we haven’t had a real conversation in years, but I heard you’re going through some stuff and I wanted you to know that the world is a better place because you’re in it. That’s crazy, though. You didn’t need me—”
This time, it’s my finger on her lips. “That’s where you’re wrong, Lucy. We were never just a summer fling. I need you more than you know.”
* * *
As Ty likes to say,it’s ass-thirty in the morning. And instead of sleeping in or making love to my girl, I’m making coffee and fixing her a breakfast sandwich for when she wakes up. I made one for her roommate, Nora, too, because I’m not an asshole. My bag is packed and by the door, but my heart is staying here.
It’s cheesy as fuck, but it’s also the truth.
Lucy walks into the kitchen looking warm and sexy in another one of my shirts. Maybe that should be my plan. I’ll just leave all my clothes here, so I can’t go home. Booker might bitch about that since I know he misses me, and half my clothes are his, but that’s a worry for another day.
“Good morning,” she says, reaching up to kiss me. It’s this I’m going to miss the most, I think. This easiness between us. Well, that and the fucktacular sex.
“Morning. My ride’ll be here soon, but I made you a sammy and one for Nora, too. Well, actually two for Nora. I didn’t know if she liked bacon or sausage, so I made both.”
“I don’t know what I’ll miss more—you or your kitchen skills,” she teases.
