Page 63 of Win You Over
Remi steps towards me. “Take my hand, baby.”
I swallow thickly, my hand hovering next to my side.
“Trust me,” he says. “I’ll never let you fall.”
That’s the thing, isn’t it? I do trust Remi. More than I ever thought possible.
Sliding my hand into his, I let him urge me forward, until he spins us, and wraps his arms around my waist, his chin resting on my shoulder. My stomach somersaults when I take in the view at our feet.
“It’s like we’re the only two people left, standing on the edge of the world,” he whispers, his words sending shivers down my spine.
The view is something else, and though my legs shake thanks to the enormity of the drop below us, causing me to lean back into Remi’s hold, I can’t deny that standing here with him is incredible.
“It’s amazing,” I say, placing my hands over his, where they rest on my stomach. “Thank you for showing me.” I don’t mean just this view, but everything that’s happened on this trip. Not only has he shown me who he really is, he’s helped show me whoIam.
“Thank you for pretending to be my boyfriend,” Remington says.
“Any time,” I joke, and he holds me a little tighter. “What are you afraid of?”
“Nothing,” he replies, not even considering the question.
“Bullshit,” I reply. “Everyone is scared of something.”
“Hmmm,” Remi hums, kissing my neck. “Okay. People not liking me. Losing my family. And spiders.”
“Why do you care so much about people liking you?” I ask.
He turns his hand and twines our fingers together.
“My grandmother hates me. Well, us. But Nadine couldn’t care less.”
“But you do?”
He shrugs, his chest moving against my back.
“More than I should. I guess I just don’t want the list to grow.”
“I like you,” I say, hating how sad his voice has become.
“I know. Why wouldn’t you?” he jokes, making me chuckle.
There’s a noise behind us and we turn towards it right as a group of hikers make their way from the path we followed up moments before.
“Wait here,” Remi says, letting go of me. I instinctively take two steps away from the edge. I watch as he greets the hikers, passes them his phone and rushes over to me.
His hands find my waist, and he leans forward and presses our lips together.
“Smile, baby,” he says, and I do, my lips curving upward to match his.
When we finally separate, Remi thanks the person who took our photo and we head down the other side of the path, his hand wrapped in mine.
“What happens when we get back home?” I ask, deciding it’s time we finally put a name to this thing between us.
We step around a broken log, heading to the left into the thicker, taller shrubbery. Remington pauses at one point to pick one of the pink flowers, which he hands to me with a smile.
“I want to be with you,” Remi admits.
“But?”
