Page 79 of The Write Off

“I have to say, this is not the movie I would have guessed you would pick.”

She shrugs. “Sometimes I want to escape into a fantasy world, and sometimes I want to watch Nic Cage steal the Declaration Of Independence.”

“I still don’t understand. I thought he wanted to protect it.”

“He has to steal it in order to protect it, Logan. Pay attention.”

“I’m trying,” I say, brushing my lips against her neck. She sighs at the contact and arches her back against me. “I guess I’m just distracted.”

“You should try to be more present.”

“That reminds me.” I push myself up and off of the couch and jog to my room. When I return with the gift bag, she sits up looking puzzled.

“What’s that?” She regards it like it might be a ticking bomb.

“Just something I picked up for you.” When she hesitates, I continue, “Open it.”

Pulling the white tissue paper from the shiny bag, she reaches in and pulls out her gift. She stares at the three-pack of hammers. They’re different weights and sizes, arranged together in hard plastic packaging.

“You mentioned you didn’t have a hammer. Now you do.”

“Thank you,” she says.

“You’re welcome,” I reply.

“No, I mean it - thank you.”

“For what?”

“For…everything? You really showed up for me through…all of this. I don’t want to be the mess that you always have to clean up.”

“Rilla, you’re not an obligation. You’re a choice. One that I will make again and again for as long as you give me the option.”

“I just think it might be easier for you to be with someone who doesn’t summon lightning wherever she goes.”

“I’ve been around those types of people my entire life. And you know what they’ve given me? Nothing. Because even though they look like a pretty package, they’re empty inside. You make me feel everything, Rilla. The good, the bad, the fucking fantastic. I’ve been going through the motions of living for more than thirty years, but you make me feel like I’m finally alive. Is life with you going to be difficult sometimes? Probably. But Kitten, I’ll take hard with you over easy with anyone else.”

“Stop,” she sniffs, wiping at her eyes. “You can’t keep saying nice things, it’s making me all sloppy.”

“I love you when you’re sloppy. I love you when you’re pissed off and when you’re scared. If you want to run, let me run with you. If you want to fight, I’ll be by your side. And if you want to burn the world down, I’ll bring the goddamn matches. I love you. You are it for me.”

“You’re it for me, too. I’ll always choose you, too. You see every bit of me. Every dent, every scratch, and instead of trying to fix me, you love me as I am. And now I have more hammers than Josh, and that makes me really happy. Are the hammers a metaphor? Like how we’ve broken down each other’s walls?”

“Sure. That and I’d really like to continue nailing you.”

She laughs through her tears and it’s everything. I watch her stand, grinning as she extends her hands to me. She pulls me off the couch and stands on her tiptoes to bring her lips to mine. We continue to kiss as we make our way to my bedroom, bumping into walls and doorways as we go.

My hands slip beneath her t-shirt and I feel her warm skin pebble at my touch. She sighs against my mouth.

“I love your hands.” She trails kisses along my jawline and when I stroke her breast over her bra, she inhales sharply. “How do you do that?”

“What?”

“Always know exactly where I want you to touch me?”

I grab the hem of her shirt and pull it over her head, biting back a curse at how utterly lovely she is. “Extensive research.” I kiss her collarbone, then the top of each breast. “But further studies are needed. I want to be very thorough.”

“I love when you’re thorough.”

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