Page 112 of The Promise Of You

“Like what you see?” he asks, his foot under the table grazing my calf.

Heat creeps from my center to my chest. I don’t know why I feel like I’ve been caught with my hand in the cookie jar. A smile is the only answer I can give him.

“You’re so darn cute when you check me out, Chloe.” He’s full-on grinning now.

I want to know more about what he went through. “How about pain?”

“What about it?”

“How did you deal with it?”

“As soon as I was out of the hospital, I tried to stay away from meds as much as I could. Did mental shit like meditation. CBD. Tried weed but didn’t like what it did to me. I wanted to feel fully in control. Having the pub gave me a purpose. Something to think about, worry about, that wasn’t me or my body.”

“It must have been hard.”

“I came out alive. I was the lucky one.”

Right. I almost forgot. How does he feel about that? Did he go to therapy? Does he still need help coping? There’s so much I want to know. “Do you often talk about the accident?”

He looks at me like he’s stunned. “No. Not going to. Thought I told you already.”

Oh. I clear my throat, stand up slowly and round the table, set my hand on his shoulder and push back a little. “I think it’s cuddle time,” I say, pushing harder so he’ll give me space to sit on his lap.

He doesn’t budge. “I don’t want your pity, Chloe.” His eyes are softer, but still, I can tell, he’s guarded.

“I don’t pity you, Justin.” I wiggle myself between the table and him and straddle him, running my fingers through his hair. “I just want to give you some love. That okay?” I add, bringing my forehead to his, my hair creating a curtain around us.

His hands come to my hips, up my butt cheeks, and he gives me a squeeze. “Yeah, Clover.” He kisses me softly, barely any tongue, then nests my head on his neck.

We stay there for a moment, quiet, eyes closed, until he carries me to his room again and makes sweet love to me.

This time, I examine his tattoos carefully, an intricate web of leaves and tree barks covering the uneven surface of his skin. There’s even a small salamander on his shoulder, and I give it a soft kiss before trailing down his chest and ending on the clover, which blends seamlessly with the leaves and flowers covering his ribs.

Then he brings us fresh berries and homemade ice cream in his bed, and after that, we fall asleep. When I wake up early in the morning, the bed is empty but not for long.

Justin brings me coffee and a warm croissant from Christopher’s bakery right across the green.

“You sure you have to go?” Justin says when I get up and start looking for my underwear.

“I can’t be wearing the same dress three days in a row. People’ll start talking.”

“They’re already talking.”

“Right. But not about my poor hygiene. Not yet.” I snap my panties and tug them on.

He laughs softly.

I find my bra under his bed. “Does it bother you that people are talking about us?”

“Why would it bother me?” He stands and walks with me to the main room.

You used to have one-night stands outside of town? Rumor is you never wanted to date anyone here? I stuff my bra in my handbag and slip my sandals on.

He wraps an arm around my waist and pulls me to him. “I don’t care what people say. And anyway, people are probably just saying the truth for once. That I’m a lucky bastard.” Then he kisses me long and soft and lets me go.

I hesitate at the door, burning to ask, Do you want to come to my place tonight? But we’ve already spent two nights together. I don’t want to seem needy. I don’t want to be needy.

“You ever been in a 1956 Chevy Bel Air convertible?”

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