Page 66 of Texting My Valentine

“Is it a snap of you, shirtless, staring broodingly at the camera?” she teases.

I laugh. “Why do I feel like you’re giving me hints…”

Her expression turns to pure joy when she sees what it is—a framed photo of her from last night’s poetry performance. She’s got both hands thrown in the air, her face pure passion, her eyes glimmering, her entire body contoured to her poetic purpose.

“How?” she whispers, getting choked up.

“I had one of my interns contact the venue and ask if there were any photographers there last night. There were, so I selected this shot and then had it printed on canvas and framed. I was worried it wouldn’t be ready on time, but luckily, it wa?—”

She interrupts me with a kiss. I thought I knew passion before, but my valentine surprises me with her perfection. She squeezes my leg under the table, then lets go with a gasp, her chest rising and falling dramatically.

“I need to chill.”

“I was about to say the opposite…”

She rolls her eyes. “This is so sweet, Alex. You didn’t have to do this. Especially when you were at work.”

“I want you to remember last night. It was a big milestone. You performed in front of your mom and your man.”

She bites down when I call myself her man, but I don’t apologize or take it back. We can dance around it, fight it, pretend all we want, but it’s the truth.

As the night continues, we talk about my work day, Tori taking an interest in the tragedy one of my patients suffered. We talk about her next performance. Sometimes, we don’t speak; we simply sit in a silence that feels comfortable in a way it hasn't before.

Now, we walk down the beach together. The security team is parked on the beachfront, but I’ve told them to keep their distance. I’ve got a text cued up and ready to go if we need them, but if anybody even thinks about trying to hurt my woman, I’ll rip them a new one.

“Elliot’s a good kid,” Tori murmurs, her head resting against my chest.

“I enjoyed watching you together this morning. I wouldn’t have guessed you were an only child. You were great with him. You had a maternal energy about you.”

She sinks her hands into my side. “Maternal? Me?”

“Why not?” I say. “It came naturally to you.”

“I’ve never even thought about having kids.”

“Why?” I ask.

She laughs shakily. “Well, firstly, to have kids, you need to find somebody. I’ve never thought aboutthat.”

“You’ve found somebody now,” I tell her, kissing her just behind the ear, making her tilt her head in a captivating and magnetic way.

She stops and turns to me. “Are you saying you want to get me pregnant or something?”

Yes, some insane part of me wants to roar, the Cupid-fueled part.

“No,” I tell her. “I’m just saying, when the time comes, I think you’ll make an amazing mother. Think of the fuel it would give you for your poetry. A whole new world of subjects would open up.”

Her eyes glimmer as if she’s seeing that future, but then she shakes her head. “It’s too easy to mess up a kid. I wouldn’t trust myself.”

“You’re not messed up, Tori. You’re perfect.”

“Do you really mean that? Or is ‘perfect’ just a word you like to use?”

I grab her hips and pull her against me so there is little to no space between us. We’ve walked away from the main section of the beach. It’s quiet here, nobody watching us, nobody listening.

“I mean it,” I tell her, then press my lips against hers.

She moans, triggering my lust. As we make out, I take off my jacket.

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