Page 96 of When Hearts Collide

My nose twitches, and I clench my hands into fists. We’ve come this far already. I refuse to give up, especially after knowing how good it can be between us.

“My answer is no, Ryland. I don’t care what you say, I don’t care about the future. You can call me immature or naïve, but I want the now. The present. You and I both know tomorrow is not guaranteed.” I hurl myself against him, burying my face in his neck.

“Please don’t tell me no,” I whisper before pressing a soft kiss on his heated skin, “If you care for me at all, please…please don’t break my heart. I don’t want to think about the future. Please, just g-give me tomorrow.” My voice chokes up and I shudder.

Maybe I can convince him, one day at a time, like Scheherazade spinning her stories night after night to entice her husband, the king, to keep her alive in One Thousand and One Nights.

His rough breathing fills the bathroom, the steam from the bath enveloping us in a tender, heart-wrenching embrace as I hug him tightly, feeling the righteous rhythm of his heartbeat pounding against mine.

“Please, Ryland. Give me tomorrow,” I whisper once more. Please don’t give up on us before we start. “I can take your darkness, your burdens. I’m the lark masquerading as a phoenix, remember? Please trust me. Give me tomorrow. Give us tomorrow.”

A few moments pass, and slowly his muscular arms envelop my back and he presses a kiss on my hair. He releases a tortuous sigh.

“Tomorrow. We still have tomorrow.”

She bounces on her feet, her back is turned toward me as she bends over the stove. After our bath, she heard my stomach grumble, and she donned one of my dress shirts before darting out of the bedroom. Now she’s in the kitchen doing God knows what.

Millie is humming under her breath, spreading warmth and happiness throughout my apartment.

She looks like she belongs here.

In another life, I can imagine her filling my apartment with laughter, moving around the space as she entertains friends and family. Maybe there will be a dog or two or perhaps a little one screaming for mommy in the living room.

My heart clenches at the vivid image.

In another life.

She pauses her movements and looks up at my black kitchen cabinets.

“Hmm…if I were you, where would I be?” she whispers. My lips twitch. I can imagine the cute little frown on her face.

She opens the cabinets one by one, her hands rummaging through the various containers and boxes, clearly looking for something. Then, a few seconds later, she exclaims, “Aha!”

Millie places her hand on the granite countertop, using it as leverage as she tries to reach the contents on the upper shelf of the cabinet in question, her hand missing whatever she’s trying to retrieve.

“Dammit.”

She tries again, fails, and lets out the most unladylike growl I’ve ever heard. My heart skips several beats.

Chuckling, I walk up behind her, my hand automatically sliding around her slender waist, and murmur, “What are you trying to get, my little lark?”

She spins around and points to a bag nestled in the back of the shelf. “That bag of dark chocolate hiding over there. Gretchen mentioned she had some in the cabinets before she left, but this kitchen is not made for short people like me.”

Biting back a smile, I reach up and grab the bag for her. In another life, I’d demolish this kitchen and remake everything to her specifications.

“You’re the perfect size.” I punctuate my words with a kiss on her forehead.

She flushes before turning back to the stove.

“What are you making?”

“You’re in for a treat. I’m making Mom’s hot chocolate.” She glances at me and winks. “Maybe that’s the secret sauce to melt your heart.”

No. You’re the secret sauce, Millie.

I lean against the counter, my heart racing inside my rib cage. “I’ll have to see if it tastes as good as you make it sound. I see you drinking hot chocolate all the time.”

She grins as she stirs a mixture of chocolate and other powders into a saucepan filled with steaming milk. She shakes her luscious ass as she hums once more.

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