I do see her. But I wonder if that seems as dangerous to her as it does to me. I’m not sure I can trust myself to speak right now. To not spill all my deep, dark secrets at her feet so I can give her what she’s gifted me.
The truth.
Instead, I press the papers to my chest with reverence and kiss her. I kiss her until I feel my legs under me again.
“Thank you for letting me read this,” I whisper into her lips.
She lets out a whoosh of breath before letting the moment fade out to a lighter vibe.
“Okay, enough of all the serious shit. Go read fast because I’ll be over here dying of anticipation just as quickly.”
I chuckle, following her lead, before deciding to do something I’ve been holding off for later. I’m not sure why, but it just feels right to give her my present since that’s what reading this feels like.
“Hold on. I’ve got something for you too. Stay here.”
Her eyes grow wide as I wink and walk past her in a flash, heading into my bedroom. When I come out a few seconds later empty handed, her brows raise.
“You got me air. Thanks, breathing has always been my favorite thing.”
I reach out to tickle her as I stop in front of her. “Smart-ass. Listen.” I hold up her article. “I’d like to read without you hovering, so go open the box on the bed.”
“Yay, presents.”
She bounces and claps at the same time, like the cutest fucking thing in the world. Wait until she sees what I got her.
I scratch the back of my neck. “You might hate it, so ...”
A kiss is pressed to my cheek before she walks quickly, but my eyes follow her, watching, before I whip back to the words on the paper.
I slide a hand over the cover page before I open it and dive in.
I’m two paragraphs in when I hear, “Who wraps a present with duct tape? It’s diabolical.” I smile, continuing. When I turn the page, she yells, “Noah. A box inside another box. Seriously?”
I chuckle, still focused on what I’m reading because she was right. I am biased. I think every word of this article is perfection.
It’s so honest and raw. And that’s fucking me up a little bit because if Goldie not knowing her birth parents feels like a void she needs to fill, if she needs to know her past, then how does she keep loving a guy who’s erased his?
My eyes have swept the last paragraph, devouring every word, just as I hear her scream. I’m folding the papers back in half as her excited face stares back at me from the kitchen with my note in one hand and a new key chain in the other.
Her fingernails tap the wall like her emotions are ready to explode.
“You first,” I say.
She can’t even contain herself, running to me before I catch her with one arm as she jumps and wraps her legs around my waist.
“Yes,” she rushes out. “Let’s move in together.”
She’s breathless as I grab the back of her head, going in for a kiss until her hands press to my chest.
“No, no . . . you next.”
I laugh because I’d almost forgotten.
“It’s genius. Entertaining and funny. Emotional and really relatable. It sounds like you. They’d be fucking idiots not to publish you.”
I mean every word.
She kisses me, and I don’t know if it’s the sublimity of this moment coaxing out my memories, but as I open my eyes and we stare at each other, something sad sits on the fringes. Something I’ve run from for a long time that seems to still be chasing my future.
