Page 36 of Small City Heart
Epilogue
One Year Later
The morning sun filtered through the blinds, highlighting sparkles of dust in the air. Charlie let the gorgeous man in his bed sleep and stared at the painting opposite the bed. It was all pastel colors and abstract shapes. Evidently, it was a painting of a woman, but the genius was lost on Charlie. Still, he had to admit it was a pleasant painting. Not as great as Patrick’s photography, though.
But Patrick had his own taste in interior design, and unfortunately, that did not include his own work in the bedroom. Patrick liked to say that having his own prints in the room where he slept gave him a big head and his ego was big enough.
Charlie liked the abstract painting for the same reason he liked the velvet red couch and the antique lunch boxes and the fancy bath sheets and the expensive milk in the fridge. It was evidence that Patrick had made a home here. A home full of art Charlie would never understand and luxury he would never allow himself if left to his own devices. A home full of personality and love.
A finger came out of nowhere and tapped his chin. Charlie jumped and laughed. Patrick touched the dimple in Charlie’s chin all the time, an impulse that seemed to make Patrick abnormally happy.
Charlie rolled toward Patrick and clung to him. He allowed himself to be clingy because Patrick would never reject him. He trusted in Patrick, in their relationship. Charlie had known from the jump they were a match. That their hearts were puzzle pieces sized to fit.
“Morning,” Patrick said, his voice craggy.
Charlie loved the way Patrick looked in the morning, his hair a rat’s nest, his eyelids slightly swollen from sleep. He was soft in the morning. Sweet. He hadn’t yet built up the armor he needed to get through the day. It had taken Charlie a few months to realize how special it was that Patrick let him see this.
“Morning, love.”
“Ah, you softie.” Patrick pressed his head to Charlie’s chest, directly over his heart. “Long day today.”
“Yep. Happy anniversary.”
Charlie practically felt Patrick roll his eyes.
“Please tell me you don’t have anything romantic and embarrassing planned.”
Charlie didn’t want to lie. He did have something romantic planned, but he could try to reduce the embarrassment factor. He could wait until after the dance tonight. No reason they needed an audience.
Patrick rolled on top of Charlie, pinning him to the bed. “Charles North.”
“What?”
“Nothing embarrassing.”
It took everything in Charlie’s power not to glance toward the closet, his hiding spot for the last two weeks.
“I would never.”
“Good.” Patrick kissed him like he was sealing the deal. “Now fuck me.”
Charlie laughed. “You have to go to work. I’m gonna drop you off, remember?”
Patrick huffed and glanced at the clock. “We have forty-five minutes.”
“And it takes you ten to make your fancy coffee, then twelve to drive to the gallery.”
“Yep, so you better hurry.” Patrick rotated his hips, and Charlie’s body lit up like a football stadium on a Friday night. “I know you like to be lazy in the morning. Want me to do all the work?”
Charlie grabbed Patrick’s thighs. “No.” He flipped Patrick over and yanked his underwear off. Patrick let loose a peal of laughter, so Charlie smacked his ass. “Shush.”
Patrick didn’t stop laughing until Charlie was inside him. Sometimes these moments seemed to hit Patrick particularly hard. His eyes were wide, his mouth parted on near-silent gasps. He clutched Charlie to him as though he were lost and Charlie was his anchor.
Charlie had asked him about it once, a few weeks into their relationship. Patrick had looked at him and said, “I’ve never slept with someone I love before. It’s different, harder, but better too.”
Charlie had replied, “You love me?”
“Too soon?”
