But I need confirmation, or I’ll never forgive myself for allowing him to struggle alone.
Me: Do you need me?
I hold my breath and wait for a response, my eyes panning from the screen to him. He stares at my message, rereading it over a dozen times.
Hesitation. Indecision.
Then he replies.
My Christian: Yeah
I run to him.
Tears brimming, I push through clusters of people, my heels clicking across the floor and my heart approaching detonation.
When I reach him, I immediately take his face between my hands and find his eyes. “Hey. Hey…you’re okay.”
His breathing is unsteady, in turmoil. “Sorry. Fuck, I…” He shakes his head, squeezes his eyes shut. “I haven’t seen her since I was seventeen. Since that night. I don’t know why she’s here, why she’s—”
“Shh. She can’t hurt you. Not anymore, not ever.” My palms cradle his cheeks, thumbs dusting over his skin. His whole body is a tightly wound knot, every limb vibrating with tension. “Lex, look at me. Please.”
His eyes slowly open, clouded with fear, with things unhealed. “Stevie…”
“You’re okay. It’s just me,” I whisper, pulling him closer until our foreheads kiss. “It’s only you and me.”
Lex wraps his hands around both of my wrists and squeezes hard, using me as an anchor, his eyes still locked with mine.
“Stay with me,” I murmur, trying to keep him steady and whole. “It’s just us. No one else.”
Sound drowns out. No more music, no laughter or noise. His eyes gradually deglaze, like frost thawing under a warm sun as we tangle, search, and hold. He’s with me, his hands loosening around my wrists, the white of his knuckles softening as some of the tension drains.
Flashbulbs go off in my periphery, but I block it out.
There’s no one else.
Only us.
He releases a breath that beats hot against my lips. “Sorry…”
“Don’t.” Swallowing, I shake my head. “Don’t apologize for this.”
Photographers continue to move around us, lurking in the shadows, snapping photos. I want to throttle every single one of them.
Lex blinks up when a flash goes off, but I redirect his attention back to me. “Ignore them. We’re just a couple having a moment.” I trail my hands down his neck, his shoulders, pressing my palms to the planes of his chest as his heart beats briskly beneath his suit jacket. “You’re fine. Everything is fine.”
A quick nod, and he lets go of my wrists. But he doesn’t let me go entirely, moving his hands to my cheeks and clasping gently.
I inhale a sharp breath when his thumb skims my bottom lip.
Swallowing, he drops his eyes to my breasts again as my chest presses against his. I feel his grip on me tighten, fingers sliding through my hair, thumbs burrowing into my cheekbones as he tips my head back.
And when he glances back up, there’s a shift. A deviation in the mood. The tension returns, but it’s different now. Potent, electric, squeezing the air out of me. A fist around my lungs.
My own breathing shudders as he searches my face, a wrinkle forming between his eyes. The room spins. My heart races.
I slide my hands under the lapels of his jacket, my fingers curling into the fabric of his dress shirt. I’m drawing him closer. Or maybe it’s him. He’s invading me, his face lowering, lips parting.
More flashes go off beside us.
