Page 126 of Again, In Autumn

“We don’t know each other enough to say things like that,” I try. “It’s dangerous. I don’t want to get too romantic and forget to be realistic.”

“Vienna.” Adam breathes my name into my mouth, either a curse or a prayer, and he leans his forehead against mine.

I breathe in his warmth, relax under his gaze, and fight the urge to cry. Apparently, I don’t fight well enough. Adam wipes his thumbs under my eyes before I realize tears have fallen free.

He starts, “I like you. You have crappy taste, but I like you. I like your personality.”

Despite my scowl, he continues, “But I love you because to me, you’re the moon. Your mere existence is majestic. I don’t want to live in a world where I come home to the dark. I want to have you, some phase or portion of you, in my gravity, always.”

Before I can interject, he barrels forth: “As long as that’s what you want. I won’t die without you. I can survive, I did it for fourteen years. I’m not that unhinged. I’m not Romeo.”

I smile at the corner of his lip turning up.

“But goddamn, Vienna, whatever made the stars and the trees and the grass made you too, and I never felt special until I saw how special you were. I feel majestic with you.”

He sighs into the crook of my neck. “It’s not practical, I know that. It’s romantic and stupid, but there it is. That’s how I feel. How I’ve always felt. If we move forward together and something changes along the way that we can’t repair, then so be it. But I know how I feel right now. It’s how I’ve felt for fourteen years.”

My fingertips run along the collar of his jacket. “And you’ll feel this way when I’m sloppy and lazy and in my pajamas all day?”

He flips up the bottom of my robe to check. “Is there a version of you that’s not like that?”

I move with him as he chuckles at his own joke. I say, “I’ll get the flu. I’ll watch trashy tv in the living room with you. I won’t go on hikes and I’m probably not going to be a big fan of environmentally conscious influencer-led park clean ups.”

He shrugs. “We can figure all that out. It doesn’t make me love you less.”

I bite my lip. “Hasn’t too much time passed? We have two very different lives –”

“Do you want me in your life?” he interrupts. “Be honest.”

I nod. “Yes.”

“Then we have exactly the same life.” He takes a deep breath, filling up his lungs while I feel breathless, my head light. He sucked in all of my worries. Everything I overanalyzed today, he erased with one sentence, one inhale, slow and simple.

I want everything he’s offering, even if it scares me a little. “Can we take it slow?”

“As slow as you want.”

I twist in his lap. His hands move out of my way as I settle in, facing him, my legs falling to either side of his. I hold his face in my hands the way I wanted to do when he pressed me up against that tree and eyed me with desire.

He raises his brow.

“I meant emotionally slow,” I explain.

He nods, laughing, “Oh.”

Adam’s hands move to my thighs, care and concern in his eyes. I don’t flinch this time when his touch moves farther back.

I fall into him, meeting his kiss. Our mouths move slowly, carefully, until he’s drinking me in, and I’m held as carefully as glass in his arms, molded to his bones. Adam pulls away, purring into my ear, “Does this mean I don’t have to sleep on the floor tonight?”

I plant kisses down his jaw. “Only if you want me there too.”

His eyes flash mischievously as he picks me up into his arms. “We already went over this.” He pauses for a kiss. “I want you everywhere.”

Chapter Thirty-Six

Adam carries me back into our room and closes the door behind him.

My hands are busy. They’re in his hair, running through soft, gelled strands, gripping his head like it might disappear while he’s kissing me. Which he’s doing so expertly. I didn’t notice it back then, but Adam kisses with a confidence and skill that’s matched with buzzy passion.

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