Page 112 of Fall I Want
He presses his lips against my cheek. “Can you?”
I try to picture a world in which he doesn’t exist before focusing back on him. “No. You’d haunt me in my dreams for the rest of my life.”
He holds me tighter. “Guess I do have the upper hand.”
I laugh. “Asshole.”
He chuckles against my neck. “I’m not going anywhere, Pumpkin.”
“Is that a promise?” I ask, turning my head enough to meet his soft eyes.
“One I’ll keep for a lifetime,” he whispers.
Chapter 25
Zane
The next morning, I wake to the sound of a distant hum. I reach beside me and the bed is cold where Autumn is supposed to be. Sitting up, I glance out the window, spotting Central Park far below. Runners in bright-colored clothes jog the path. A part of me expected mountains and pumpkins. It’s almost disorienting being here, considering how quickly I escaped this concrete jungle.
I slide on a pair of joggers and grab my phone. There are a few notifications from Harper and Weston, but I’ll respond later.
When my feet touch the bottom floor and I catch a glimpse of Autumn, I stop. She stands at the espresso machine wearing nothing but one of my oversized T-shirts and white panties. Her messy hair is flipped to one side as she reads the buttons. I take her in as the early sun sparkles through the windows.
I want to always remember her like this.
I enter the space and she turns toward me. “Good morning,” she says with a smile. “Coffee?”
“That would be great.” I wrap my arm around her, then slide my lips across hers. She’s breathless when we pull apart.
“What was that for?” she asks with her eyes still closed, our mouths only an inch apart.
“Just kissing my girlfriend,” I say, confirming that she’s real. Ican’t help but notice the way her mouth turns up like she’s pleased. “How’d you sleep?”
“Perfect, but only after you snuggled me. And you?” She pulls away from me when the maker stops brewing.
“Best rest of my life,” I admit as she hands me the fresh shot of espresso then makes another. With a push of the button, it automatically starts the process of grinding the beans.
I blow on the top of the cup, watching the crema. A minute later, she grabs hers and moves closer to me as I lean against the counter. After she inhales the chocolate notes of the beans, she takes the tiniest sip.
“Well?” I ask, not able to take my focus from her.
She’s fucking gorgeous. She’s mine. Isn’t she?
“Tastes like shit.” Autumn barely gets the words out before she bursts into laughter.
“You suck at lying. Now, the truth.”
“It’s delicious. Smooth. No harsh aftertaste. If I had to guess, Italian. Medium roast.”
“Mm. Impressive.” I take a sip, snickering.
“What?” she asks.
“You’re a coffee snob.”
Autumn rolls her eyes. “You are too.”
“Oh, I’m aware. Just glad I found someone who understands that life is too short to drink shitty coffee. One of our final arguments was over that machine.”
