Page 39 of Leave Before I Love You
“Fine,” Henry says through another laugh. “You tell me one, then. What’s one of your secrets, if you’re so good at coming up with them?”
I think through all the things I do that people don’t necessarily know about. The old ladies from The Pines I help dress in the latest fashion, the times I’ve volunteered at the soup kitchen in downtown Miami, and the tab I have open at Starbucks for strangers who come in there asking for food or something to drink.
They’re all pretty valid secrets in the shock-and-awe department, but for some reason, I don’t like how serious and vulnerable they make me sound.
I settle for something slightly more in line with the personality I present to the world, but a pretty big lack of disclosure all the same.
“Last year, when I was shopping for June and my mom for Christmas, I purposely got them gifts from Hermès so I would qualify to get offered another bag I wanted.”
Henry laughs, shaking his head. “Well, I guess it’s still the act of giving, so I can’t fault you there.”
“Well, actually…” I wince, outing myself further. “I also made sure the stuff I bought them was stuff I wanted and they didn’t, so they would end up giving it to me.”
Henry barks out a laugh. “Avery!”
“What?” I shrug. “It’s not like the two of them aren’t rich enough to get whatever the hell they want. They both have rich husbands. I’m still living off a quickly drying well from my father.”
“You really are cute, you know that?” Henry asks, leaning forward to kiss the corner of my mouth and slide the strap of my bikini top down my shoulder. The skin underneath his thumb pebbles.
“Oh yeah? How cute? Cute enough to take to bed again?”
He smiles against the skin of my shoulder, and his ever-growing beard scratches at it gently. “Yes…and no.”
“Yesandno?” I question, incredulous. “Those are opposites. You know that, right?”
“I do.” He nods, looking up at me with the sexiest, saddest eyes I’ve seen since he dipped his wick in my ink the first time. “The thing is, I’ve already had your perfect pussy two times today and three yesterday, and I’m worried if I have it a third today, we’re really asking for a problem infection-wise. I don’t want you to get a UTI without a way to treat it.”
It sucks, but he’s right. I’ve been trying to be really careful at seeing to my hygiene after we’re together, but there are some things that are a much bigger risk here than they are at home. There’s no quick trip to urgent care for antibiotics. There’s sepsis and a really ugly death.
Ugh.
“Okay.”
He hums, pulling my face down for a kiss that makes my stomach flip over. “Doesn’t mean we can’t cuddle and make out.”
I nod. “Yeah. Let’s do that.”
Ever so gently, he picks us up from our spot by the fire just like he did the first night we slept together and carries me to our shelter. I wrap my hands around his neck, and he cradles me in his arms like I’m as light as a feather.
I know I’m dropping weight just like he is, but truth be told, I’ve been trying not to focus on it.
I’ve got enough problems to worry about without considering my dwindling appearance. I cling to Henry somewhat desperately as he leans down to scoot us into our shelter, needing our already-close bodies to be closer.
Big, big problems.
Once we’re tucked inside, he rolls us to our sides so we’re facing each other, his eyes tracing my face and leaning forward every few seconds to take slow, lingering kisses. It’s intimate and swoon-inducing, and I find myself easily lost in the magic of it all.
We could be in a daily rental cabana on the beach of a resort, in the warm comfort of my oceanfront condo’s bed, or tucked away on his deep, suede couch in his cushy Miami living room. We’re so locked in on each other, the simplicity of our survival has faded away, and truly, we could be anywhere.
An unknown amount of time ticks by like that, wrapped in each other’s arms as we kiss and touch and explore without rushing to get to a sex-laden end. When his eyes start to get heavy, I rub at his back to encourage him to let go and fall asleep without worry or waiting for me.
Normally, he comforts me to sleep, playing with my hair and singing that same old song about the bird and its wings, but just for tonight, I take the lead at comforting him.
He’s been strong and unswayable in the face of adversity. He’s been generous and careful with me, and not once has he made mefeel like more of a burden than a boon. He’s the reason I’m not only alive, but sane.
He deserves to be taken care of.
His features, normally rugged and strong, are so soft as he lets go into a restful sleep, and I study every line as though it’s a personalized, wrapped, and bowed gift.
