Page 62 of Always

Our love came after the primal instinct to come together, as if our hearts followed our souls.

The best kind of love.

We kiss and we kiss and we kiss, until she breaks her mouth away from mine and inhales a deep breath.

“I have to check dinner,” she says. “I can’t let it get ruined again.”

I trail one finger down her cheek. “Okay. We’ll have the shower after dinner.”

“After we talk,” she says.

I nod. “After we talk.”

Chapter Twenty-Two

Unlike Skye’s first attempt to cook for me, this meal turns out perfectly. The shrimp étouffée is spicy and delicious, and the Beaujolais-Villages complements it very well. We don’t talk a lot at dinner. Just a little about my trip and about the posts she’s done this week. I’m pleased with her progress as an influencer.

“I’ve been using the skincare line for a week now,” she tells me. “What do you think?”

“I think you’re as beautiful as you always were.”

“Seriously. My skin tone is a little more even, don’t you think?”

“I honestly have no idea.”

“Are you kidding me? I look better, and you don’t even notice?”

I chuckle. “Contrary to popular belief, beauty routines aren’t for men, Skye. They’re for women.”

“I just mean—”

“You mean you want me to tell you that you look better. What if I did? The first thing you’d say then is, ‘You mean you didn’t like how I looked before?’”

She scoffs. “Maybe some women. I wouldn’t.”

I shake my head. “You aren’t like any other woman I’ve ever met, so maybe you wouldn’t. But I’m telling you the truth when I say I don’t see a difference. You were beautiful a week ago, and you’re beautiful now.”

Her cheeks go rosy. Perhaps Skye doesn’t realize that she could have dirt smudged all over her, tangles in her hair, and it wouldn’t matter. To me, she’s beautiful in every moment, inevery state—messy or polished, she radiates something deeper than appearance. She always takes my breath away without even trying.

“Ready for dessert?” she asks.

Am I ever.

But she already turned me down for a shower, so I’ll keep my cool. She invited me here to share something with me. Something important. Something I asked for.

“Let’s talk first,” I say.

She’s going to open up to me.

I may not be able to reciprocate, and that will have to be okay with her.

“All right,” she says. “You want any coffee?”

“I think just a little more wine.” I fill my goblet halfway and then lift my eyebrows at her.

“No, thanks.” She smiles. “You want to sit on the couch? It’s more comfortable.”

“Sure.” I pick up my wineglass and walk to the living room.

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