Page 81 of This Is Who I Am

“You’re so fucking gorgeous.” It almost sounds like an insult. “I know I’ve reacted to that in ways that weren’t always very nice. I’m sorry about that. I can hardly hold your beauty against you. And how you don’t suffer from the menopause. And how you pick up a surfboard and just get into the water with the likes of Sadie and Devon. And look damn good in a wetsuit while doing so.”

It’s unsure whether Cass is complimenting me or disparaging herself—maybe a little of both.

I slant toward her. “I’m not you and you’re not me.”

“I’ve had some time to think…” Her tipsiness is making her extra frank. “And it’s possible that we are incompatible, but not for the reason you’re so convinced we are.”

“Okay.” I guess we are already having the conversation.

“Bijou,” she says on a sigh. “That was nothing, but you never gave me the chance to explain that to you. Yes, I slept with her. And yes—” She nods decisively. “I touched her in ways I can’t touch you, but… it was an empty touch. It was soulless. I was so fucking drunk, anyway. It’s not that I don’t remember, but it was not memorable, you know? Not like every single time with you.” Cass expels some air. “When you walked away, it made me see something I hadn’t before. I could touch a hundred women and none of them would make me feel what I feel just being in the same room with you.”

“But what about the reciprocity? The intimate vulnerability you miss with me?” I might as well ask her now that she’s so forthcoming.

“Well, yeah, that’s not there, but there are so many other things… It’s no secret that I think you’re too hot for me, too kind, too smart, too everything…”

“That’s only because of how you feel about yourself at this particular time in your life,” I reply.

“Maybe, but… I don’t know.” She chuckles. “You came back.”

“I came back,” I repeat, while slipping her hand in mine. “For you.”

“I called you a coward.” She pitches her body toward me.

“I was a coward.”

“You were just hurt.” Her face is less than an inch removed from mine. “I shouldn’t have called you a coward.”

“I hurt you too,” I say.

“At least we’re compatible when it comes to that.” Her lips scrunch up. “That doesn’t make any sense, does it?”

“It doesn’t matter.” I lean in. “None of it matters right now.”

Cass’s gaze flicks to my mouth and lingers there. Her breath brushes against my lips and the whole world stops. The music from the dance floor becomes distant and irrelevant. It’s just us here in this secluded corner of Savor—in the exact spot where we first met.

I tilt my head just slightly, still unsure whether I should kiss her, although I can’t see how I can possibly stop now.

Then, she bridges the final distance between us. Ever so slowly, as though she’s making sure I can still change my mind. But this is all I want.

When her lips touch against mine I feel like I’ve truly come home. My fingers tighten around hers. Our kiss deepens. Her hand cups my cheek, her thumb caressing my jaw. Her lips taste of champagne and recklessness and the kind of hunger that only comes from waiting too long.

I lean into her more, into all of it. The rush and the ache. The impossible tenderness of what we’re doing—because it is kind of impossible.

When we part, it’s only because we need air.

“You really did come back for me,” she whispers.

“I’m here for youandfor your hangover tomorrow,” I say.

“That doesn’t surprise me about you one bit.” Her voice falters. “It’s exactly who you are and I fucking love you for it.” She pulls me close and kisses me again.

CHAPTER39

CASS

The morning after the party, I wake up with a splitting headache and a body that feels eighty-three instead of fifty-three—but none of it matters. I kissed Estelle. It was late—or early—and I was pretty tipsy but I remember every second of it. I remember my elation when I first spotted her. Our sensual slow dance. And, finally, that kiss. It’s the best hangover cure ever, it would appear, because I feed August with a spring in my step and I brew a strong pot of coffee with nothing but possibilities on my mind.

I can’t wait to see her so I text her—because I can.

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