Page 41 of Never Less

“Years,” I whisper.

“And I’m assuming you’ve thought through this, at least somewhat? I know you, Lily. You don’t make rash decisions.”

“This feels rash, though.”

“Have you thought about it?”

“Yes.” If I’m being honest with myself, the idea of ditching Nate for his dad was on my mind at Christmas, too, and that was before I even knew he’d cheated. I just haven’t wanted to admit it to myself.

“Then honey, don’t let your fear stop you. You’ve only got one life, and he’s a good man.”

“I’m scared,” I whisper.

“I know. But good things can be scary sometimes. And you want to move in with him? He’s somewhere in Florida, right?”

“Yeah,” I whisper.

“Yeah to what, Lily? My first question or my second?”

“Both.”

“Then get off the phone, hon, and go tell him what you want.”

“Okay. I—I will. Love you.”

“Love you, too, sweet girl.”

I hang up and make my way toward the kitchen. Halfway there, I hear Marcus humming, and it makes me smile. He always seems to hum or sing to himself while he cooks, but today, he sounds happier than normal.

Before he notices me, I lean against the couch in the living room and watch him. He moves in fluid, confident motions as he chops up a pepper, and I realize that moving in with him will mean I won’t have to do all the cooking. Nate hates it, so all meal prep has always been on my shoulders. I don’t mind cooking, but sharing the burden will be… nice.

“Can I help?” I ask.

Marcus looks over his shoulder, his face bright with a smile. “That was a quick phone call.”

“Didn’t need to be long. Just needed to talk some things over.” I come up behind him and wrap my arms around his waist. He’s warm and smells nice, his usual scent of teakwood and spice filling my lungs. “Oh, and I think I’ve made my decision about what your next project should be.”

“Which one?”

“The porch. I think I’ll like having a place to sit outside. You like slow mornings, don’t you? Maybe we can sit out there and drink our coffee and read. Or talk, or… other things.”

Marcus goes still, the knife he’s holding halfway through the pepper in front of him. “Liliana.”

“Turn around,” I whisper.

The knife clatters on the cutting board, and when he whips around, he grips the counter behind him. He doesn’t say anything, but the hope on his face makes my heart squeeze.

“I want to move down here,” I say. “I want to be as close to you as possible.”

“Down here…” He runs his finger through my hair. “With me. In my house.”

“Yes. I want all of that with you, Marcus.” I beam up at him and place my hands on his chest. “I’ve wanted it for a long, long time.”

He blows out a short breath before leaning down and pressing his lips to mine. Butterflies take flight in my stomach at the way he grips my waist and yanks me into him.

“Tell me again,” he breathes out, not even moving back an inch.

“I want to move in with you. I want a life with you, Marcus.”

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