Page 51 of Harbor in the Tempest

“Unless you have plans already, I’ll take an actual lunch, and we can have breakfast for breakfast tomorrow, if it’s my choice that is.”

“You always have choices. I love many of your choices, actually. Don’t move.”

Eli leaves me on the sectional covered with a large fleece throw. I can hear the refrigerator door opening and closing along with the rattle of dishes. “Elijah? I’m sorry about last night.”

There’s nothing for a minute or so. I just assume he can’t hear me. I rest my head on the back of the sofa to stare at the game. His gentle tone then rolls in from behind me. “Why would you say you’re sorry?”

My bed of spinach appears with sweet and spicy tuna and a bowl of sliced apples. “Well, I fell asleep before we finished and… I know it’s not what you were hoping to hear.”

“All I wanted was the truth, Dylan.” Eli slides back into his spot including tucking me under his arm.

“So that’s it? You’re satisfied?”

“We’ve only known each other for a few months. We’re still getting to know things and what the future might hold. I remember you saying that not having the conversation is worse than anything that could be said. I agree. You were honest with me. Nothing bad can come from that.

“More than anything, I choose you. I’m the best version of me when I’m near you. That’s in every way. We don’t have to have all the answers right now. I just need you to hear I choose you.”

I choose you.

It’s fucking incredible, the feeling you get when you hear those words. You get chosen for schools, programs, jobs, and auditions. You can be chosen to be a friend or a person to confide in. But when you have a person you have feelings for and have given yourself to in many ways say I choose you, it tells you you’re good enough as you are.

You don’t have to change. You don’t have to wear some mask or be someone else. I’d rather hear I choose you than I love you. Love can have conditions. You can love someone and not choose them. Choosing is investing. I’m his choice and he’s mine.

Wow. He’smychoice. I hope he can’t feel how scared I am. For all the jokes I make, the clear innuendo I sling at him at every moment possible, the vibrato I’ve taken great pride in creating, I’m a girl at heart.

I reach forward, setting my plate on the coffee table, then swing my legs over his lap. My toes dig into a little slot between the cushion and his hip. His hands slowly slide over and adjust the fabric of my robe. His sleepy eyes meet mine from behind thedark brown frames of his glasses. My fingers trace through the stubble on his jawline as I give him a gentle pull toward my face. His hand slowly draws up my body to rest just below my ear.

Our lips do a delicate dance together. “Eli, I choose you too.”

We sit quietly against each other watching the rest of the second period of the game. About midway through, after I’d finished my lunch, we lay down together on the couch. I curl up on his chest and pull my hands under my chin. He fans the plush blanket out, cocooning us.

“I do have one other confession. It’s not a big deal but I should tell you, tomorrow is my birthday. I didn’t want to say anything, so you’d feel like you were supposed to fuss or something.”

“Or something. I like the vagueness of that. Your birthday. So many possibilities. You let me worry about the or something. You simply breathe.”

With my ear against his chest, I can hear his heart beating. It’s slow and steady. It’s the best downbeat for a slow waltz. I let my eyes close and listen. It reminds me of us dancing in my apartment. The rise and fall of the dance are now the rise and fall ofhischest in breath. It’s so soothing, the light dims, my breathing slows, and the horn signaling a goal fades into the background.

Chapter Twenty-Three

Elijah

Those who suggest a weighted blanket calms your body have obviously never slept with Dylan as a blanket. I was wide-awake, watching my favorite teams battle, then the next thing I knew, it was two hours later and another game had begun.

Dylan had gotten up at some point, gone to shower, and returned. I catch her covering me with an actual blanket before I pull her down back to where she should be. She smells so good. It should be criminal actually.

I ask her if she knows how to man a gas grill. I have a menu for tonight that will require a bit of assistance. I woke up with several other ideas for tonight and tomorrow. I get the sense she doesn’t really care for her birthday. My mission is to spend the next twenty-four plus hours changing that.

She wants to get a light workout in today to help warm her injuries. After I’m sure she’s set up on the lower level, it’s shower and go time. I call in a favor to the nearby ski resort for a couple of surprises I hope will mean a lot. I didn’t have time to prepare. I only know her. My instincts will have to do.

The doorbell is ringing within five minutes of my shower. Gabe came through in the clutch. I got two of the largest boneless pork chops they had with their secret sauce for plating. They sent a dozen bacon wrapped asparagus, and all of what I’d need for wild rice pilaf along with a white baguette. My secret requests have been granted, those as well will be unwrapped with time.

“Did I hear the doorbell? Who knows we’re here?” Dylan shuffles past me to snoop in the bags on the counter.

“Back away from the counter, Viper. That’s an order.”

“Whoa. That was also hot.” She winks as she slinks away to a stool on the other side of the island. “Thanks for the few minutes of alone time.”

“You never have to ask for that. I hope you’re hungry. I have a late dinner and a few surprises on tap. Are you comfortable in what you’re wearing? I need you to be absolutely comfortable. Just call it a rule.”

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