Page 56 of When We Meet Again

“Beautiful name for a beautiful girl.” Waverly grabs my hand, and I’m not sure if that was a subconscious move or not, but I revel in the perfect way our hands fit together.

Another little girl similar in looks steps next to her, but her hair is long and a dark brown with a tint of red, and eyes as blue as the sky.

“Wait! Are you two sisters?” Waverly asks the girls.

“Twins,” the dark-haired one answers. “My name is Addison.” Waverly holds her hands over her mouth, but not before she mouths the word ‘twins.’

Her interaction with these girls is all I need to see to know she still wants kids. She always told me she wanted two boys and two girls, but my brother was set on not having them at all. They were another part of herself she sacrificed for him.

I allow myself to drift into the future, picturing what our life would look like, even with just one child. Waverly is all smiles, loving on our little daughter, who most likely has an Italian or Irish first name. I smile into the sky, hoping the universe will grant her a child. If not with me, then someone who will complement her as a husband and co-parent.

It better fucking be me.

I stand and watch her chat with Rylie and Addison’s mom a little longer as we wait for our food. I should join in. That would be the polite, gentlemanly thing to do. But I can’t help but admire the woman in front of me. How relaxed she looks, interacting with three strangers. How her face changes when the girls speak. She’s beaming. And as she turns to me, food in hand, her eyes have an extra sparkle in them, as if she’s shared my daydream,seen into her future and knows it looks bright as fuck.

“Weren’t they just precious? I’d love twins!” she announces before taking a heaping bite of beef and cabbage. I admire a goodappetite in a woman, and she’s never been one to shy away from eating. As we both tuck into our lunch, we exchange no further words, choosing to communicate through looks. And this shared look seems like it’s filled with a promise.

“Theyareprecious.” I can’t stop myself from imagining what our child would look like. I see a girl. We definitely have to have a girl. Maybe she’ll have my dark hair and Kensi’s green eyes. She would be beautiful, of course. Just like her mother.Chill out, Roman. You’re getting way too ahead of yourself.

The kid conversation was fleeting. Neither of us mentions it again for the rest of the day, but it lingers in the back of my mind. Thoughts of what we could have. What weshouldhave. No. I’m not losing this woman. I’m going to give her everything she wants.

With my mission to bring Waverly the joy she deserves, the rest of the day flies by. We eat more, we drink green beer, we dress up in old Irish clothing and take these antique portraits. That was definitelyheridea. My agreement was purely for her. We even learn an Irish jig step-by-step, taught by little Rylie and Addison who happened to be a part of the American-Irish School of Dance. That was my favorite part of the day. Watching Waverly interact with the girls, filling my head again with thoughts of our future together. She’ll be a fantastic mother. I can already see it.

As the sun starts to set, we polish off the last of our yard of green draft beer. The crowd is dying down and it twists my insides. I wish this day would never end, but that’s on par with the days we spend together. I never want any day with her to end.

Waverly turns toward me and taps her finger on her chin like she’s contemplating whether or not she wants to tell me what she’s thinking.

“Would you maybe want to stay over at my place tonight?” Stains of scarlet color her cheeks. She looks almost… Surprised… At her abruptness. But I love a woman who’s direct. Even more so when it’sherwho’s being direct. And the undertone of such an invitation is so abundantly obvious.

I grasp her hands in mine so we’re face to face and give her body a raking graze, biting back a smile.

“I don’t know, Waverly. What are your intentions with me?” My eyes narrow, and I tuck back a grin, dragging my fingers up her arms, leaving goosebumps in their wake.

She pulls her pink bottom lip between her teeth. “They’re dirty intentions. Filthy…” She rises onto her tiptoes, leans in, and rests her lips on the shell of my ear. “...Offensive,” she whispers, and my cock grows against my pants, not giving two fucks that we’re in public. She pushes a kiss to my cheek and turns around, calling back over her shoulder as she starts walking toward the exit, leaving me stewing in her words, “But if you’re not into it…”.

“How offensive?” I call out to her.

She looks back at me, her blonde hair no longer in pigtails, but splayed down her back. “Are you coming, Rome? Or am I going to have to take care of this myself?” A defiant look crosses her face as she squeezes her thighs together. I don’t doubt she would take care of it, but to hell if I miss it.

The car rideis filled with palpable sexual tension and stolen glances. She fiddles with her seatbelt, and every time we hit a bump, she lets out a tiny whimper. I accelerate more and more, trying to get home. I’ll be damned if a car ride will get her off before I do. The temptation to rest my hand on Waverly’s leg orgrab her hand is out of this world. Yet there it goes. My hand finds her skin and the touch makes me nearly come. I steal a glance in her direction, and her eyes are gently closed, her lips are parted.

I watch as she licks her lips for the thousandth time. The ride from the fair to her apartment is maybe thirty minutes if traffic is in our favor. My house is too far, and we’re barely making it as it is. I’m addicted.

We pull into the gravel lot of her apartment building, and I’m pretty sure she opens the door while the truck is still moving, throwing herself out of the door. As if she can’t get away from me fast enough. Or gettome. She runs around to my side as I step out and close the door. “Where’s the fire, Kensi?” I joke.

“Stop talking.” And I do. I really don’t have a choice as I’m pushed against my truck milliseconds before she crashes her lips into mine. Hair is being pulled; backs are being scratched. Necks are being licked and bitten. Sexual tension was always palpable between us. This woman is irresistible. Her laugh, her hangriness, her absolute rawness when it comes to life.

This fucking kiss. It feels feral. Like it’s our last, and now we need to show all of our cards before it’s too late. Our moans reverberate in each other’s mouths. I reach my hand into her hair and tilt her head back, allowing me to deepen the kiss, and a deep groan escapes her. I spin her like she’s weightless. Now she’s pushed up against my truck, and I can feel the way she arches into me that she loves it. Dropping my hands to her ass, I hoist her up and she wraps her legs around my waist, crossing her ankles behind me.

She’s not going anywhere. My hard-on is straining against my zipper, pushing against the warmth between her legs.

I drag my lips down to her neck, needing more. “This is it.” I roll my tongue over the sensitive part under her ear. “If we do this Waverly, there’s no turning back. Once I get you in thatroom…in that bed…and have you completely naked, writhing underneath me…” She wraps her hands around my neck, leaning her head back against the window. “I’m never turning back. It’s going to be me and you, Kensi.”

I kiss her lips, once more. “You and me. Okay? Like it always should have been.” I can’t get enough of her. The smell of her coconut shampoo invading my senses. Not enough of the way she bites my lips when she kisses me. Or the way her nails trail down from my scalp to my lower back. It’s dangerous how much this woman consumes my thoughts. My dreams.

“Okay,” she whispers into the night air, eyes fluttered closed, lost in the moment. Her body arches into mine again, forcefully as if she can’t get close enough. So, I lean my body on hers, practically smashing her between me and the truck.

“You feel so good against me, Rome.” She whimpers in my mouth while her hands pull the back of my hair.

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