Page 94 of Those Two Words

And there they are.

I’m yours.

I bring my mouth to hers with fierceness. As much as I love seeing her smile, it feels and tastes even more incredible. I taste it as our tongues entangle, and sense it in my soul. I feel her in my soul. Because she’s mine and I’m hers.

As I hold her in my arms, I know what I want.

This.

A hundred more moments like this. The sad, happy, and angry ones. For every sad day, I’ll give her one hundred happy ones. On the days we find ourselves angry at each other, I know the making up will be incredible. I’ll take on anything, so long as she is by my side.

Since I was seven years old, I knew one thing for sure.

I love her.

I love her so deeply I think it’s one of my life’s purposes.

As the rains falls on us, I know this moment is one I’ll carry with me for the rest of my life.

On a day that’s filled with such sadness, she brought me joy.

She showed me love.

thirty-eight

JOHANNA

Patrick and I spent the rest of the evening sitting in his truck and sharing more memories about his dad and my mom.

It’s not just the elation on his face as he listens, but the comforting presence it brings from talking about my mom with someone so openly that has us talking well after the sun sets.

We didn’t care about our wet clothes as we cried and laughed together. But as we peeled them off each other back at my apartment, I was happy to be rid of them. I knew we didn’t have long, so when he joined me in the shower, claiming it was better for the environment, I didn’t argue. I most certainly didn’t care when he fucked me hard and fast, with my face pressed against the shower tiles, our moans being lost under the spray of water.

He stands by my front door now, hair wet and curly from the shower and a cocky smile on his face.

“If I didn’t have Lottie tonight, we wouldn’t be sleeping in separate beds, know that,” he says, before giving me another kiss. The last five have all been followed by “Just one more.”

“It feels a little anticlimactic, doesn’t it?” I laugh as he zips up his jacket.

“Johanna. When we’re alone together next, it will be anything but anticlimactic,” he retorts, his voice gravelly and deep.

Now I really don’t want him to leave, but I know if he doesn’t, I’ll climb him like a tree.

“I don’t think we’re on shift together until Friday. And then it’s Monday…”

We share a worried look.

“God, Monday,” he groans, and I want to echo his discomfort.

The past few months have flown by so quickly, and I can’t believe we’ll know the outcome of the restaurant next week. It feels like yesterday I stumbled into the restaurant and his life. I know whatever we’re told, we’ve tried our hardest, and if anything, I’m grateful for how it’s brought us back together.

I can deal with that potential failure, but I still worry about how Patrick will handle it.

I shake the pessimistic thoughts away. “It’ll be fine; you’ve worked so hard.”

“We’ve worked so hard,” he corrects.“I’ve been doing what I’ve been doing for the last six years, you’re the one that came in and made all these amazing changes. That’s all on you.”

“Yes, yes.” I start to push him toward the door. “Get out of here, or you’ll never leave. And I need to sleep.”

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