Page 88 of Never Have I Ever

My fork clanging against the plate resonates even in the open air where we sit. “Um . . .” I need to collect my thoughts and speak carefully before blowing this up into something it’s not. I take a deep breath and drag my hands down my legs. “Okay. Where are you going?”

“A yacht in the Mediterranean.”

“Sounds like more of a date.” Fuck. Should’ve kept my mouth shut.

“I’m not going to justify my work to you, Laird. I’ve picked up small jobs around LA for weeks now, but this paycheck is significant.” I open my mouth, but she says, “Wait, please. I know you have an answer for everything. Honestly, I know you’d be happy with me sitting here supporting you and living off your money. I’m grateful for that generosity, but I can support you while still having my own life and building my business back to pre-accident levels.”

I don’t bother picking my fork up. I’d much rather have this conversation. “I never intended to stifle your career or to make it feel less than mine.”

“That’s just it. I know you didn’t. I took a job that had nothing to do regarding us. It’s only about an opportunity I’ve been given.” She looks out toward the ocean. It’s too dark to see anything beyond a few dots of lights from businesses and homes along the Malibu coast. She stares in that direction anyway.

“Everything I think about is in regard to us.”

“No,” she says, looking at me. “You would be in the studio if I had never shown up at the cabin. You’ll be going on tour whether I’m there or not. Do you see the difference? I don’t even sleep at my apartment anymore. I go to change out my clothes in a suitcase I drag back and forth, then return as fast as I can to be with you.” Leaning forward, she slips her hand under mine that’s resting on my leg. “I love you. I do it because I love you. I took this job because I’m losing myself. Forget the accident.”

“How can I? It’s shaped every part of your life.”

“I’m not sure what you mean. Does it bother you, or is it an observation?” Shaking her head, she sits up, removing her hand from mine and taking hold of the napkin again. “I know it’s hard to understand something you never witnessed. It’s not a fallback for me to make excuses. It’s me realizing that when I find love, I jump at the chance, which is why I’m here. I love you, Laird. More than anything.”

“But your work.” Strike two.

Her chest jolts with a scoff. “You’re pushing me away.” She starts cutting her chicken and then stabs a bite. “Is this what will make it easier for you when I’m gone?” She takes the bite, studying my reaction.

I can’t hold myself in neutral, not even in challenge, and not when it comes to her. “Nothing will be easier when you’re gone.”

Expecting anger, I drop my gaze to the plate in front of me. I’ll take it. Whatever she has to dish. Pun intended, though I don’t think she’d find that humorous at a time like this.

“It will be hard on me too, babe.” I look up to see her expression softened with tears welling in her eyes. “I thought I wanted this job, but it worries me to be away from you now.”

Scooting my chair back, I pat my lap. “Come here, baby.” She comes over and settles in, her arms wrapped around me. “I’m not mad you’re going. I’m bothered that I won’t get to see you, kiss you good morning, or go down on you at night when you can’t fall asleep.”

She rolls her eyes, and her cheeks flood pink, then her bottom lip pops out. “I like that, too. I’ll miss making love as the sun rises and falling back asleep wrapped up in your arms. The showers we take together are my favorite way to get clean and then dirty again. I love how excited you are when I cook dinner for you, and how willing you are to try new dishes I’m working out.”

I kiss the side of her mouth, then hold her by the hip. “I love the way you make me laugh with your chef jokes that aren’t funny in the least, but you know how to land that punchline.”

“Thanks.” She grins proudly without an ounce of arrogance, though she’d have a right to that trait. “I don’t love when you can’t sleep, but I love when I wake up in the middle of the night to the sound of you playing your acoustic.”

“I didn’t know you heard that. I always shut the door and try to keep it down.”

Caressing my cheek, she says, “I never want you to keep it down. I want you to play what your heart tells you.” Leaning in, she rests her forehead against mine and then presses her lips to mine. It’s not the kind of kiss that leads to other things. It’s the kind that bonds our souls in a deeper way. As if that was even possible. I’m so wrapped up in her and make no apologies for it.

We catch our breath, and as we enjoy what feels like a stolen moment under the circumstances, the confessions we got off our chests bring us closer—physically and when I kiss her again, I can know this is real. We are. It might have been fast, but she’s right.

She means everything to me. As I do to her. No doubts exist between us.

Leaning back, I can see how free she feels from the worries she was carrying. She laughs and then asks, “How’s the chicken?”

“Best I ever had.”

The TV is on, but the sound is muted. We’re lying in bed with the door open. The sheets catch a bit of wind every so often, which sends her snuggling to my side. I hold her tighter.

“I was thinking we could stay at your place when you get back.” I don’t ask the obvious question, though I want to know what she thinks.

She props herself up on her elbow. Her eyes are glassy, though I’ve not felt any tears fall on me. I reach up and gently pinch her chin. I ask, “What’s wrong?”

“I don’t know what I did in another life to deserve you, but it must be pretty fantastic.” She grins.

“You’re pretty fantastic.”

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