Page 49 of This Is Who I Am

“In that case, let’s skip brunch tomorrow and I’ll make you the best grilled cheese you’ve ever had.”

My turn to chuckle. “It’s definitely not a quid pro quo.”

“My body will probably take some time to recover from this. I might not be able to move tomorrow from all the trembling my muscles did.” Something solemn passes over her face. “All jokes aside,” she says, “I am grateful because… I forgot what it felt like to be completely transported like that. I—” Her voice falters. “I don’t want to make too much out of it, although it is a big deal to me.” She pauses. “I have no idea how this happened. What went on in my body or my brain or both to make this possible. It’s all quite unfathomable and the only differentiating factor is you.”

“Differentiating factor?” I repeat. “You sound like a mathematician.”

“You must be rubbing off on me already.” She doesn’t look as though she’s joking. “You’re so incredibly kind, Estelle. It’s like your kindness has just completely… melted me or something. I don’t know how to adequately put the feeling into words.”

I have to swallow something out of my throat now. “You were very brave, showing yourself to me like that.”

“You made it easy. You make everything easy.” Cass gazes up at me with sparkling eyes, still moist from crying earlier, and all my own defenses melt into a useless puddle as well. “I’m so going to fall in love with you. You’d better watch out.”

“Watch out for what?” That tingle in my stomach grows a little bolder.

“Oh, I don’t know. I just—” She blinks a few times, as though warding off more tears. “I was so not expecting someone like you in my life.”

“Ditto.”

“And, um…” She runs a fingertip over my arm. “Now we just… stop? Go to sleep? There’s nothing, um, you need?”

There we go. The inevitable question. But it’s only logical. I’ve yet to meet a woman who doesn’t want to reciprocate. It’s not in the female DNA to just receive.

“I already got everything I need.” I want to kiss her again, which is usually an acceptable response to this question, but Cass isn’t done talking.

“If we, um, were to do this again…”

“Which we’ve already established we should because of science.”

“We do kind of owe it to middle-aged ladies, a notoriously under-researched bracket of the population, to investigate this further.”

“That goes without saying.”

“You said no touching below the waist.” Cass goes directly to the point—and I’m glad for it. “What about above the waist? That tank top looks mightily good on you, but…”

“You want to see what’s underneath?”

She nods in response.

“You can touch my breasts. It’s okay.”

“But it doesn’t turn you on?” she asks.

“It doesn’t,” I confirm. “But if it turns you on, that works for me. Although that’s where I draw the line.”

“Okay.” She smiles softly. “Got it. I think.”

“I know this is new for you and a little complicated, but we’ll get used to it.”

“It’s not that complicated,” Cass says and I don’t contradict her, even though I know from experience it’s not true. It always gets complicated at some point.

I just smile down at her and enjoy this special moment between us. She just said she’s falling in love with me. This charismatic, passionate woman who makes the best burger I’ve ever tasted. And now I’ve seen her—really seen her—not just her naked body, but Cass Little in complete surrender mode. Not something I’ll get enough of easily, although I might have to, because I will never be able to reciprocate that particular flavor of vulnerability.

“Big spoon or little spoon?” I ask.

“You’d think, with this body, I’d be the outer spoon?—”

I bring a finger to her lips to silence her. “Now that we’re in bed together, I will no longer accept you talking about your body in a deprecating way.”

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