Page 84 of Lighting the Lamp
“Well, that’s surprisingly mature of you. Look at you. Mr. Emotional Growth.”
“Don’t ruin it,” I mutter.
“Just trying to say that I’m proud of you.”
I huff out something close to a laugh, but it dies quickly.
“She’s one of the good ones,” he says. “She knows what she wants. Don’t leave her guessing whether you do.”
“I’m trying to show her without pushing,” I say, and I mean it. “I don’t want to push her. I don’t want her to think I’m only showing up because I’m falling apart. I want her to feel it everyday. Even when I don’t have the words. Let’s just hope I don’t screw it up.”
“You won’t. Not if you keep showing up.”
I sit with that, the phone warm against my ear, my chest bruised with everything I haven’t said. “Thirty minutes, and bring the good beer. If you show up with that yellow piss water brand you try to pass off as a microbrew again, I swear to God?—”
“I’ll bring the good stuff,” he promises. “You sound like you need it.”
“Why’s that?”
“Because it sounds like shit’s about to blow up.”
I shift into park and rest my hands on the wheel, staring at the wall in front of me like it might blink first. “You’re not wrong.”
There’s a beat of silence, then Cole adds, “You’ll handle it like you always do.”
I don’t answer right away because he’s right. I’ll figure it out like I always do, but for the first time, I don’t want to handle it alone. I want someone to know the entire story. To see the parts of me I’ve kept hidden and stay anyway. I want her, and I’m finally realizing that wanting her means letting her in.
“Love you, man,” Cole says.
“Love you, too.”
The call ends. The cab goes quiet as I sit there for a second, the engine ticking softly as it cools, my hands still wrapped around the wheel like they don’t know how to let go. She might be upstairs, hanging out with Ramona and working on wedding plans, or maybe she’s at home thinking about me.
Maybe she’s still waiting for me toseeher the way she asked to be seen.
I lean my head back against the seat and close my eyes.
Soon,I tell myself.Soon, I’ll give her everything.
If she’s still there when I do… I swear to God, I won’t let her go.
Chapter Twenty-Six
Beau
The elevator dings open, and there’s Alise. For half a second, it’s like I’ve stepped into a dream I didn’t want to wake up from. It’s one of my favorites, playing on repeat in my mind since she asked for space, the one where she’s mine and I don’t have to pretend that seeing her doesn’t hit me like a slap and a prayer at the same time. Her arms are crossed, leaning against the wall outside my condo like she’s part of the building—if the building had curves and smelled like vanilla and trouble.
And God, I’ve missed that smell. I’ve missed her. Weeks of wanting, needing, to just be near her. Weeks of pretending I don’t feel like half a man when she’s not around. I almost told Cole the truth today, almost let it spill out how she’s the only thing that feels real anymore, but I didn’t because once I say it out loud, I can’t take it back.
Her eyes catch mine like they’ve been waiting for me, like she didn’t just stop by, but she needed to see me. And maybe I’m desperate enough to imagine her need where there’s only convenience, but right now, none of that matters because she’s here.
My heart stutters, then slams hard enough into my ribs that I swear she can hear it. I should say something real, likeI’ve missed youorYou’ve been in my head every damn day, but those words are too raw, too dangerous, especially after my recent conversation with Cole.
So, I do what I always do: smile before I can stop it and go for the joke, which is much safer than the truth. “If you’re auditioning for a hallway cryptid, you’re crushing it.”
“Extenuating circumstances.” She lifts a brow, unbothered and effortlessly in control, but I see the tension in her jaw.
“You remember where the spare key is, right?”
