Page 132 of That Fake Feeling
Andsuddenly he’s not touching me, his body is not next to mine, andIdon’t like it.Iwant him back, right now, tickling my belly, whispering in my ear, and pressing his dick against many other parts of me.
Hejumps out of bed and pulls tight white boxer briefs over the exceptionally hot bare backside that’s staring me in the face.
“Whatare you doing?Whereare you going?”
Hehas a giant smile as he bends down and kisses my forehead. “Backin a minute.”
Andhe trots out of the room and downstairs in nothing but his undies.Mymind flashes back to seeing him run into the dining room wearing exactly the same thing just a few months ago.
Ifanyone had told me then that he was everythingIwas missing and would turn out to be my perfect person,Iwould have told them they needed to go for a long nap in a cool, dark room and pull themselves together.
Ibury my face in the pillow that smells of him, close my eyes, and inhale deeply.
I’mjolted awake by the words “Hereyou go.”
He’sstanding by the side of the bed holding a tray.
“Sorry.GuessInodded off.”
“Itoccurred to meI’venever made breakfast in bed for the love of my life.That’syou, by the way.”Hesmirks down at me. “AndIthought it was timeIdid.”
Ipush myself up to sitting as he places the tray on the covers in front of me and slides back into bed carefully so as not to tip anything over.
“Thisis fantastic.”Icup his stubbly face in my hands and pull his lips to mine. “AndI’mlucky the love ofmylife makes a fabulous breakfast.”
“Theremight not be any heart-shaped fruit, but the coffee’s hot.”Hepicks up a pastry and taps me on the forehead with it. “Andthe croissants are real.”
Iscrew up my eyes and laugh as he takes a bite out of it.
“Butyou know what?”Istroke his cheek as he chews. “Themost important thing is thatyouare.”
Ipress my lips against his.
Hetastes of sugar and butter.Andlove.
EPILOGUE
December
CONNOR
ThenewestToastedTomatolocation in an old factory building in theEastVillageis packed and buzzing.
WalkerandEmilyhave turned opening night into a giantChristmasparty, and the huge main room is full of festive spirit from its restored wood floors up to its vaulted, beamed ceiling.
Spotlightspick out the details in the old bare brick walls and subtly change from white to red to green.Ona stage at one end, a band plays endless festive songs as attendees of the invitation-only event dance in front of them.Andat the other end, there’s a long bar.Lookingat the giant drop cloth cloaking the wall behind it gives me the jitters—the secret it’s hiding might make or break me tonight.
Almostthe entire family’s here.Tom’sstill inLondon, but evenOwenandSummerhave come down for the night.They’reatSummer’splace inNewHampshireuntil the new year, when they’ll start looking for a house inSanFranciscosoOwencan go into the office every day.It’sa crucial time for the growth of his andElliot’sbusiness and their nonprofit, and it’ll also put them close toOwen’ssister and her daughter.
Dadputs his empty beer glass on the counter beside me and takesMom’shand. “Comeon,Mags.Timeto cut a rug.”
“Inthese shoes?”Shepoints at her strappy sandals. “Youknow it didn’t end well the last timeIwore high heels.”
Shetaps her temple, a reminder of an incident right before their housewarming party earlier in the year.
“Yeah, butI’llbe holding on to you this time.”Hepulls her in the direction of the band, and she totters after him, giggling.
Rosereturns from the restroom and places her hand on my shoulder.Mystomach flutters, not with nerves about what’s to come, but with the never-ending rush of puppy love she brings out in me.
