Page 91 of Hang the Moon
Breathing would help. Passing out wouldnot. He let his hand drift down to the small of her back and up again, breathing in time with the leisurely drag of his palm against her smooth skin.
“I don’t want you to move to London.”
Her expression shuttered, her eyes falling to his chin.
Words fell from his lips in a dizzying rush because he had to get this out. “I don’t want you to move to London and I know that’s selfish of me, but it’s also not? Because I want you to be happy and I don’t think you’ll be as happy there as you could be here.”
“Brendon—”
“Please. Let me finish.”
She nodded, eyes darting warily over his face.
“I want more time with you. This past week has been the greatest and somehow, also the worst of my life because—”
“What does that mean?” Annie scrunched her face up. “Sorry. Go on.”
He laughed and ran his hand up her back, smiling when she shivered and pressed closer. “Because it’s been everything I wanted, and the thought of you getting on a plane and this all going away? Of you going away?” He shook his head. “That’s the last thing I want.”
She resumed her lip nibbling.
“A week and a half hasn’t been enough.” He debated the next part, not wanting to scare her, but... if he was being honest, he might as well go for broke. “I don’t think any amount of time would be enough.”
She lifted her eyes, her lip popping out from between her teeth when her jaw dropped.
“I want more mornings waking up next to you. I want to show you the rest of my favorite places around town. I want to take you out to Sequim to show you the lavender fields and I want lazy nights spent with you, watching French television shows I can’t understand.”
She cracked a smile.
“Everything I learn about you makes me want to know more.”
Her eyes went glassy, her lashes fluttering against her cheeks.
“I want to know how you prefer yours eggs and whether you like the Beatles or the Rolling Stones better, or if you hate them both. If you’ve been bungee jumping. Whether you’ve ever stayedup until four in the morning reading. Your opinion on oatmeal cookies. Your favorite way to spend Sunday afternoons.”
Annie gave a watery laugh. “Soft boiled, the Rolling Stones, no but I want to, yes, I don’t discriminate against cookies, and”—she swallowed hard—“if you asked me two weeks ago, I’d have told you the best Sundays are when I don’t get out of my pajamas, but now? Right now I’d say my favorite way to spend any afternoon is with you.”
His heart flung itself at her through the wall of his chest. “I can’t believe you like oatmeal cookies. You heathen.”
She smiled at him, and his awareness of his heartbeat increased threefold. “I even like them with raisins.”
“Gah.” He laughed, even though his sinuses burned. “Well, that’s that. Time for you to go.”
Annie laughed and nothing sounded sweeter.
“I’ve never felt this way about anyone before,” he whispered. “And I don’t really know what I’m doing. But I want the chance to figure it out, Annie. I want the chance to figure it out with you.”
Annie raised her chin, shifting almost to sitting. She folded her arms on top of his chest and leaned over him.
“I don’t know what I’m doing, either,” she admitted, her voice a whisper he had to strain to hear. “I never planned for any of this to happen. I never thought...”
She shut her eyes and pressed her lips together, and his chest ached with the desire to make it better. Whatever she was feeling, whatever was tearing her up inside, leaving her conflicted, he wanted to take care of it, shoulder the weight for her, or at least share in it. He continued to rub her back, because if thatwas the only thing he could do for her, the only thing to make her feel marginally better at the moment? He’d do it well.
“I knew I wasn’t happy in Philadelphia, but I tried not to think about it. No one wants tothinkabout how unhappy they are,” she admitted. “I think... I think I’ve been settling for less than happy for so long that I’d forgotten what being happyreallyfelt like.” The smile she gave him started slow, almost shy, before brightening into something steady and sure. “Until I came here. You’ve been a huge part of that, Brendon.”
Laughter built in his chest, bursting from between his lips, incandescent and joyful. Unstoppable. The insides of his eyes stung.
“I don’t know what I’m doing,” she repeated, but this time it didn’t make his chest ache as intensely. It sounded more like a confession than an apology, and that gave him hope. Annie rested her hand against his cheek, her fingers brushing the thin skin beneath his eye. “But I promise... I promise you’ll be the first to know.”
