Page 25 of Almost You

In the past, I would have shrugged off this type of question. Acted macho and tough. But with him, all my barriers were down for good. He hadn’t only crossed worlds for me, he’d been inside of me. There was no space for evasion in Ghost’s dark, kind eyes.

“I guess…what I worry about is how you won’t age, and I will.”

“I’ll age with you.”

“What? No.” I shook my head. “I wasn’t suggesting?—”

“I’m offering.” He held out his hand and smiled. “Youneverpush me to do anything or make demands on our relationship. But it’s okay to have wants and to ask your partner for them. Unlike your foster care experiences, I’m not going to turn youout for wanting to be cared for, secure. That’s the best part of loving somebody. Giving them what they need. Making that person feel treasured.”

“And I make you feel like that?” I asked gruffly. “Abby always told me I wasn’t enough for her.”

“Aw, sweetie. You’re more than enough.”

We clasped hands.

Ghost saw me. Right away, he understood me, better than I understood myself. He saw my entire being, and standing before him, it was all I could do not to cry.

I was in love with a man who was dead.

Yet I had never felt so brave, so alive.

He squeezed my hand. “So, don’t hold back with me if you’re scared or unhappy. I want to hear it.”

“Okay,” I replied softly.

“Good.” He gave a lopsided grin. “And I can easily alter my appearance to match yours as we age.”

“Don’t have to alter a thing for me, so long as you still will want me with gray hair and wrinkles.”

“You’ll be a fox. A silver-haired stud.”

Although I was not a stud at any age, I gave him a long, grateful kiss.

Afterward, Ghost became thoughtful. “Aging is part of being human. All jokes aside. I want to see myself age, see a wrinkle here and there—something to mark the time in a place that’s timeless.”

“Age, don’t age. I’m not afraid. And we’re all going to be ghosts. Someday.”

FOURTEEN

Ghost

In the ghost realm, relationships were one-sided. There was only the now. That was the rule we obeyed. That was why my connection with Christopher was everything. I saw vulnerability in his eyes. I saw humanity and hope for more than the present. Hope for a future.

Ours.

Every word I’d said to Christopher, I’d meant with all my heart.

My Christopher. I couldn’t share my past with him, but I could listen to his stories. Christopher had always felt alone. He’d cared for his ex-wife but had been unable to be himself with her. With me, Christopher let me fully inside. Literally. Figuratively.

It was easy to fall for him. We spent days just laughing, fucking, loving. In the ghost realm, I could brush his hair off his eyes, or trail my fingers over his tattoos. I could kiss him senseless or merely hold his hand.

And he leaned into my touches. Craving more. When I touched him in response, Christopher would hold me tighter. He’d caress the nape of my neck. Nestle against me.

Other days, he called me to him. When I entered the human realm, my hands were his. When we showered, the soap on our body was my skin and lingered with a scent I could smell.

Christopher needed touch whether we shared a body or not. We ate as one, fucked as one, slept as one. It was a level of intimacy beyond everything else. A knowledge of each other.

A knowing that everything ends and nothing ends.

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