Page 79 of Finding London

“And since we’re talking about flaws, you, Loïc Berkeley, need to work on being honest with me. I know you’re not telling me something. I know something is worrying you. I didn’t believe your headache story for a minute. You promised me, no more running. You have to work on your communication, too. I realize that this is all new to you, so I’m being patient. But I can’t be an open book for you when you’re barely opening up a chapter of yourself for me. You have to trust me enough to tell me your fears and worries. Let me be there for you. I want to be there for you, too.”

She kisses me again. Her lips caress mine, and right when I’m about to deepen the kiss, she pulls back one more time. Her face is a breath away.

“Do you know why I was going to your house last night? I was going to tell you that I loved you, Loïc. I. Love. You. You can trust me with your heart because I’m not going anywhere.”

Hearing those three words fall from London’s lips helps me more than years of therapy ever could.

This time, I crash my mouth to hers. As my tongue swirls in her mouth, something that she said a minute ago confuses me, and I pull back.

“London, why do you only where these panties when your aunt visits?”

London starts to laugh hysterically and falls off of my legs onto the bed.

“What?”

“Loïc, Aunt Flo is another name for a girl’s period.” She giggles.

“It is?” I ask in astonishment.

“Yes! I thought you lived with a girl. You’ve never heard that before?”

“I don’t talk to her about her period or whether or not she wears special underwear for it. How was I supposed to know that cotton panties are only for that?”

“You’re so cute and naive.” She laughs. “Don’t worry. I don’t let my real aunt see me in my underwear.”

“I thought that was weird.” I scrunch up my nose in disgust.

She just laughs. “Nothing like a conversation about good ole Aunt Flo to kill the mood.”

“I know how to get the mood back. Tell me those three words again.” I quirk up an eyebrow.

“Which ones?”

“You know which ones,” I growl, pulling her hips toward mine.

She leans in. “I love you.” Her breath from the words warms my face.

I groan as her lips find passage on the sensitive skin beneath my ear once more.

“I love you, Loïc Berkeley,” she whispers against my skin, shooting chills through my body.

I roll her over until she’s pinned beneath me. I’m aching with want but not with indistinct desire. No, this need is singularly focused, made for one woman only.

London is everything I could ever want but never knew to ask for. Even if I had known, I would have never wished for her. She’s too beautiful and too perfect for me to be real. Yet here she is, and not only is she real, but she also loves me. I know I won’t be able to hold on to her forever, but here and now, I’m making that wish anyway.

I hold her wrists against the mattress. Her hair is splayed across the pillow. She wears no makeup, and her eyes are slightly puffy from crying, but they appear to shine brighter in the morning light. She looks like an angel. I guess that is fitting since she’s definitely saved me.

I pin her with my stare. “I love you, London Wright, more than I ever thought possible.” My heart doesn’t race with trepidation as the words leave my mouth. My palms don’t sweat, and I have no desire to run. In fact, there is nowhere else I’d rather be than right here.

I do love London. It’s my reality, and regardless of what happens in the future, I’m so thankful to have her now. She’s told me many times, and now, I believe her. Love is worth the risk. These feelings of pure love and happiness coursing through me right now are worth it.

London

“I love you. Get it through your thick skull.”

—London Wright

I’m presently in heaven, and I love it. Yep, I’m a huge fan of paradise on earth. And, to me, that consists of lying in my bed with Loïc with our naked limbs wrapped around one another, both of us in a sated afterglow of bliss.

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