Page 56 of Reaper
The living room is warm, with creamy beige walls and dark hardwood floors. The furnishings have been kept to a minimum, a simple cream-colored couch and a small armchair facing each other, with a glass coffee table between them. I’ve added some yellow throw pillows, and candle centerpiece to the coffee table to make the space more lived in and less show house.
Off to the left of the living area is a compact kitchen with bright yellow walls and windows that brighten up the space. The kitchen has dark hardwood floors, matching the living room, simple countertops, and standard appliances—all ready for upgrades in the future—plus a small pantry and white cabinets with plenty of storage. The place isn’t excessive, but practical, and it’s all mine.
When I reach the door and open it, I’m fully expecting to see one of my neighbors returning some of my mail. But the moment my brain registers the person in front of me everything else fades to the background. A mix of excitement and relief courses through me as my heart beats wildly against my chest.
“Logan?”
With a thud, his heavy black duffel bag hits the ground. When he takes a step forward, I jump into his arms, my legs wrapping around his waist, feeling the warmth of his body against mine. His deep laughter, a sound like warm honey and rumbling thunder, echoes through my entire body, as I grip him tighter, terrified this is all a dream.
“You miss me?”
Overwhelmed with his words, they hit me straight in my gut and a sob I can’t hold back rips through me. With my head in the crook of his neck, I inhale his scent making sure to imprint it on my soul just in case I’m going crazy or he’s here to say goodbye to me forever.
“Shh, baby. It’s alright.”
His words, though soft, do little to calm the frantic beating of my heart. All I can think about is the man I love is here in Seattle hundreds of miles from Oakland.
“You’re here,” The words are barely audible above my own tears. “I can’t believe you’re really here.”
“I am, sweetheart. But let’s go inside before the neighbors get an eye full when I slip inside you.”
I can’t help but laugh as I reluctantly slide down his body. He grabs his duffel bag from the floor and follows me inside. I close the door behind him.
So, he’s here to stay for a while at least.
I take his duffel bag, the weight of it heavy in my hand, and walk toward my bedroom. His heavy footfalls echo behind me off the polished hardwood floors.
“This place is nice.”
I chuckle. “It is, but not as nice as that million-dollar condo of yours.”
“It doesn’t matter the price of the place, Paris. This place looks like a home, mine looked more like a showroom. Impersonal. I like this a lot better.”
I look over my shoulder and smile as we enter my bedroom. “I’m glad you like it. I’ve been trying to make it my own, since it came furnished.”
My bedroom has dark hardwood floors too and is spacious enough for just a queen-sized bed, dresser, and a small chaise that sits in front of double windows. The light beige walls are accented with crisp white crown molding, creating a bright and airy feel. Attached to my bedroom is a simple full bath with a standalone shower, modest bathtub, and simple white tiled floors. Not extravagant, but perfect for me.
“I can’t believe you’re here.”
After placing the duffel bag inside my walk-in closet, I face him, but the intensity in his eyes freezes me in place.
“I wanted to surprise you, so I hopped on my bike.”
“You drove your motorcycle?” He nods, a wide grin splitting his face as a chuckle rumbles inside his chest. “From Oakland?”
“I did.” He walks up to me, his touch gentle as his knuckles graze my cheek, then trace the line of my jaw. “I’ll drive to the ends of the Earth to see you, Paris”
What the hell does a girl say to that? The man I love rode a motorcycle over eight hundred miles to surprise me.
“I love you, Paris.”
My breath hitches, another sob rising in my throat as his face blurs. His thumb traces my lips, then he grips my chin between his two fingers.
“I’m sorry it took a while for me to say it, but it’s true. I just needed to let go of a few things before I could move forward. I’ve taken all this time to do the work to make sure I’m in the right mindset to be the person you need me to be. So, I’ve come to lay my soul bare and then you can decide if you want me in your life.”
He gently pulls me toward my bed and we both sit together on the edge. He intertwines our fingers. My heart is pounding inside my chest so hard. I’m nervous to hear what he has to say.
“So, to know who I am, I guess you need to know who I used to be,” he says, sighing. “I’ve always had this voice in my head pushing me to do things.”
