Page 139 of Butterfly Effect

Adoration and awe, tenderness, and teasing. The culmination of an intimacy that only vulnerability allows.

It’s what I chased every fling, with every other person I’d been with. And now that I have it, I want nothing else, with no one but her.

I wanna tell her—then the world—that I was too afraid to show so many sides of myself until she stripped me down. That only she can pull me apart and piece me back together. That she’s it for me.

The various parts—the playboy, the submissive, the intellectual, the athlete—stare at one another in a house of mirrors, debating.

It’ll be over in the New Year. What’s the point?one whispers.She’ll find someone else.

Instead, my eyes shut, casting away the voices, unready to leave this perfect moment for a spiral of pessimism.

“Sleepy baby boy,” Gabe sweetly mutters, pelting short kisses in my hair. “Mine, mine, mine.”

Thank God.

I cherish the confirmation and kiss her heart. “Mine,” I mutter back.

“Yours.”

Chapter 24

Born To Be A Passenger Princess

Gabe

Getting railedto high heaven three to five times a week is like the merriest of holiday seasons.

It makes everything better. Nonexistent sun? No problem. Birds flew south for the winter? Okay by me. Neither No Nut November nor overcast skies are effective. Wade didn’t even make it twenty-four hours, and I’m getting more than enough Vitamin D to last me through saddie season.

Sleeping through the alarm this morning gave me an excuse to use a new dry shampoo. The botched batch of cupcakes I was supposed to donate to the Boys and Girls Club’s annual bake sale simply meant swinging by Go Ahead, Cake My Day on my way to work. Even the blizzard raging throughout the day doesn’t get me down.

I shake my head and smile at the frozen, snowy tundra of the network office parking lot. Someone’s started to clean it from one side. I can’t tell which of the custodial staff it is, considering they’re bundled head to toe, but wave a hand in thanks as I take a sip of coffee and move toward the parked Beemer.

I’m pleasantly surprised there’s a shoveled path to the driver’s side. “That’s nice.” Neither of the neighboring cars piled high with the fresh white snow have gotten any attention. I shrug.

Overnight bag thrown in the back, I get into the front with my tumbler, humming the network’s new theme song.

The engine turns with the automatic start button, and I set my lidded mug into its holder. While waiting for the car to warm, I lower my hooded scarf. Something white glimmers in the periphery.

I jolt at the silhouette of a person in my passenger seat with a shrill scream. “Ahhhhhhhhh!”

My legs push to scramble backward as far as possible from the intruder, fingers searching for the handle.

But it’s not a person. A six-foot, plush snowman looking smug in his silk top hat, striped scarf, and corncob pipe stares blankly at the visor, a permanent smile embroidered onto his rotund snowball face.

“What the actual fuck?” I curse to myself. Finally, the car door gives and creaks open.

A head pops between me and the door. “Heyyyy, Freckles.”

I swing a fist but miss.

“Jesus!” The handsome culprit clasps his toque as he tumbles backward.

“Wade!” I seethe, bounding out of the car. “I’m gonna fucking strangle you!”

He prances in a jog through the snow, bursting with giddy laughter at our slow chase. “And I’ll enjoy it!”

“Why are you like this?” I yell. “I thought I was gonna die!”

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