Page 43 of The Marrying Kind
“Can we get mushrooms on it?”
I stood and followed her to the door, glancing back at Noah, who knew damn well I didn’t like mushrooms on anything. “Of course.”
• • •
After we finished the pizza, I couldn’t stand to watch Ella actually pack her bags upstairs, so I nursed a beer on the couch and waited.
We’d taken to sleeping in the same bed since that first night I buried myself inside her, but I wasn’t sure tonight I’d head up there. I wasn’t sure about the protocol anymore. We were never dating, and yet I felt like we were breaking up.
“Have you seen my pink sleep shorts?” she called down to me at one point.
I took an extra-long swig before answering. “Haven’t seen them,” I said, knowing damn well they were jammed underneath my mattress.
“Oh well, gives me more room in my suitcase.”
I heard the sound of her zipping her bag before she came trotting down the stairs in my sweats and a T-shirt. “Hope it’s okay I borrowed some clothes to sleep in. That way I can have my bag fully packed.”
Biting back the urge to ask why she was in such a hurry to get the hell away from me, I pulled her down to my side. “Of course. You look super cute in my clothes.”
Ella grabbed my beer and took a drink of it. “I can’t believe you called the blood-orange beer just okay. I’m worried about you.”
I attempted my best impression of an easy smile. “It was good, but I can’t inflate Noah’s ego too much. It goes straight to his head.”
“Fair enough.” She smiled and sipped my beer again before handing it back.
Things with Ella were so comfortable and easy, that I had to will myself not to dwell anymore on my loss.
“So, can I ask where you’re heading tomorrow?”
“The Grand Canyon. You ever been?”
I nodded. “Yeah, as a kid. One of my friends’ parents did an RV trip, and I got to tag along. It was cool as a kid, but I’d probably appreciate it more now. I’m pretty sure I was goofing around with my friend more than I was admiring the beauty of the canyon.”
“That’s my goal, just to admire it all. Like with the northern lights. You know, I snapped a photo, so I’d remember when I’m old, but that photo doesn’t compare to what I saw, how I felt there under that majestic sight ... or how nice it felt to be drinking champagne in your arms.”
“You going to find a new man in every city to snuggle with?” The question left my lips before I could filter it. Apparently, sulking about Ella was making me an asshole.
Her brow dipped for a beat before her face softened. “Austen, you came out of nowhere. You were completely unexpected. If I didn’t need to travel the world to honor my parents’ memory, and if it were possible for me to make a life here, have your babies, maybe we’d have something. Actually, I’m sure we would. But things aren’t like that. We both have our own dreams, and they don’t align. But I don’t regret knowing you. I’m so glad you let me into your life like this. I’ve had such an incredible time here. And if it makes you feel any better, it’s hard for me to walk away from you.”
“It is?” I asked, focusing on just the parts of that speech that made my heart happy.
“Yes,” she said, lowering her eyes.
“Because I’m romantic and funny and fuck like a demigod?”
Ella bumped her shoulder into me with a laugh. “A demigod?”
I nodded, a proud smile on my face. “Absolutely. You forgetting already? Because I’ll remind you.” I shot up from my seat in challenge.
We stared at each other for a few seconds before she hopped up from the couch and pressed her chest against mine.
“All right. Remind me.”
“Yes,” I hissed and lifted her, grabbing fistfuls of her bottom as our lips crashed together.
I was tempted to save time and lay her down on the couch, but I wanted this to last, maybe take all night if I could manage it. I brought her upstairs and laid her down slowly, not breaking the kiss just yet.
Two weeks wasn’t enough time to tell someone out loud you fell madly in love with them, even if it was true. How long was love supposed to take? I didn’t know. All I could say was when it hits you, it’s sudden, like an unexpected rain shower on a sunny day.
