Page 25 of Deja Brew

“He will.” Leo scans the room and his gaze settles on the largest painting of me. A horizontal canvas where my back’s visible to the viewer while I lay in bed, bathed in dawn light. What the viewer can’t see is his arm wrapped around my waist, hauling me closer to him because I rolled away during the night.

I rub my hand up his back. “Is it everything you hoped?”

“It’s better.”

“Better?”

“Because you’re with me.”

“I love you,” I say softly and his eyes widen. I haven’t said it yet. Even though I know I love him, it was a quick turnaround from finding everything out to being together. I wanted to wait until I was sure. “I love you, and I’m so proud of you and your beautiful work. I still can’t believe you find me worthy to paint, but I’m glad.”

“I’m glad I got to deliver boxes to you. And you don’t mind my mildly concerning obsessive streak.” He crushes me in a hug.

Bouncing to my toes, I press a kiss on his cheek. “Well, it did mean I wasn’t murdered and now we walk together.”

Walking with him beside me is my favourite part of the day. When it’s cold, he pulls me close to keep me warm, and we walk in silence with the dark surrounding us. Just us together.

“Thank you for letting me show the paintings.” Chocolate eyes bore into mine while he tucks hair behind my ear.

“I’m glad it’s better than you expected. We need to find a new place so you can have a bigger studio.”

His brows raise in surprise. “Together?”

I nod shallowly and scan his face, attempting to figure out what he’s thinking. Surprises aren’t a bad thing, but he also hasn’t said anything.

He shakes me gently. “Stop thinking so hard.” He presses his forehead to mine. “Let’s go home and start looking for a place.”

“Now? But what?—”

“I’ve done everything I need to. Let’s go home.” He waves a goodbye to the woman who organised the night and strolls to the door, holding me close as we step onto the street.

Towards home.

Together.

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