Page 80 of Finding London

I nuzzle my face against his firm chest. I could lie here all day.

It’s been a week since we confessed our love for one another out loud. In truth, the L word must make Loïc extremely horny because we’ve spent the majority of the past week in this very bed in my room. Loïc leaves to go to work, of course, and we try to eat every now and then, but we’re mainly here, wonderfully content.

Loïc wears happiness well, too. If anything, he’s extremely irresistible when he’s smiling—not that I’d want to resist him anyway.

He gently trails his fingertips across the skin of my back. “Hey, remember the last time I freaked out, after the sunset date a couple of months back?”

“Yeah.” Of course I do.

“Do you remember when you gave your little speech at the end, telling me that not everything should be a battle and that I was a big, bad warrior?”

I huff out a laugh against his skin. “Yes, I remember.”

“Why did you call me a warrior?” he questions thoughtfully.

“Early on, I looked up your name. It was probably because of that. Do you know your name means famed warrior?”

“I didn’t know you’d looked it up.”

“Mmhmm…I don’t remember when. It was at the beginning though, maybe even after the car wash. I remember thinking your name was so unique, and I wanted to know what it meant. What made you think about that night?”

“I’m not sure. I meant to ask you about it before, but I forgot. I’ve always known what my name stood for. My dad used to call me his little warrior.”

“Oh, I didn’t know that.” I sit up with my arm propped on Loïc, so I can see into his eyes.

I love when he tells me stories about his childhood, good or bad. It makes me feel closer to him, and I get a thrill every time he opens up to me. I know it isn’t easy for him, and I love that he feels comfortable with me now. For some reason, every time he shares a detail from his past, I feel like we’re a step closer to our future. I’m not sure why, but it’s as if, when he shares with me, it is his way of mourning that part of his history, and after he lets it go, he’s able to move forward with me.

Since we’re sharing, I’m reminded of something I’ve wanted to ask him.

First, I bend down and kiss him, tickling my tongue with his. I’m so addicted to his taste, his kisses. I press my lips against his in one last chaste kiss before marginally leaning back.

“So, I wanted to ask you, what did you want to tell me last week when you got back from training?”

His body stiffens beneath me. “What?”

I attempt to keep the atmosphere lighthearted, ignoring his obvious discomfort from my question. I smile wide. “Don’t think I’ve forgotten. You had something to tell me. You’ve kept me thoroughly entertained all week”—I give him a wink—“but I would like to know what it was.”

“You’re right. I did—I do have something to tell you.”

The tone in his voice fills me with a sense of dread. The worry that has been absent from him all week has returned. I hate that I’m the cause of his shift in demeanor, but I have to know—now more than ever.

“You can tell me anything,” I try to reassure him.

The hand that I have rested on his chest can feel his heart beating rapidly beneath his warm skin. The swift cadence now mirrors the beat of my own heart.

“Well, I knew it was a possibility, but I didn’t know for sure if it would happen. I knew my unit was up, but I was hoping we wouldn’t be called.” He nervously searches my eyes.

“Loïc, you’re speaking in riddles. Just tell me.”

“We’re being deployed.”

I wait for him to continue, but he doesn’t say any more.

“That’s it?”

“London, I’m being shipped to Afghanistan where I will be for ayear.” He emphasizes the last word.

Then, I get it—his fear of losing me.

---