Page 34 of She Came Upon A Midnight Clear
My heart fucking hammers in my chest, and suddenly I am wide awake.
Did she really just say that? Does she know she said it? Does she mean it?
I say her name quietly. “Evie?”
But she just sighs and tucks her head into my shoulder.
I lie awake in the dimly gleaming lights on the tree. Thinking. Remembering. Wondering about us. About where this thing that’s happening will go, where I want it to. Asking myself if Evie wants the same things I do. Laughing at myself for being such a classic dyke.
I want her to move in with me. To find a job down here so we can be together, because obviously, I can’t move. And Ineedto be with her. I need to wake up to her face every morning. Fall asleep with her in my arms every night.
I start making excuses in my head as to why this would be the sensible thing to do. We’ve actually known each other for seven years. We spent that whole year hanging out when I was datingMarcy—it was almost as if Marcy knew the relationship wasn’t right, and she’d always have Evie around as a buffer. We spent that year talking about everything: family, music, movies, our childhoods, politics, current events. She confided in me about her dating drama, came to me for advice, and fuck, it pained me to even hear about her seeing anyone, no matter how selfish I knew I was being.
The thought of her being with someone else now hurts, like a knife to the gut.
I’ve dated a few other women since Marcy, but none of those relationships ever got too serious. And it’s because of Evie.
I’ve loved this woman for years. This is not something new to me. And I frankly don’t give a fuck if anyone wants to accuse us of U-Hauling. That is, if Evie will agree to it.
She has her work, though—her career. Is it even right of me to ask her to give up her job and move in with me? She did say she hates her boss, but she worked her ass off to get her Master’s degree. I don’t have a right to come between her and her career goals.
And finally, am I getting too far ahead of myself? Because that seems like the sensible answer. Or, it would be for someone else, but this isus.
My mind spins for a good hour or more before I finally wear myself out, and manage to drift off.
Evie
When I wake up Dru is still in bed with me and fast asleep, which is surprising. They usually wake up early. I must have worn them out last night.
I get up and go brush my teeth, then heat the kettle to make coffee, pulling out the French press and the beans. Luckily, she already has some ground so I don’t need to run the grinderand wake her up. I manage to make the coffee, adding a dash of cinnamon, which she seems to like this time of year, and hopefully I did it right. I carry my mug and one for her over to the bed and set them both on the nightstand, then sit on the mattress, just staring down at her.
She is so damn beautiful. Her features are so streamlined, from her high cheekbones to her fine, strong jaw. And her lashes are so dark against her cheeks. I can even see the tiny creases where her dimples are, and my finger aches to touch them. I don’t know why this is such a thing for me, but it is. As I sit there and simply look at her, this woman so full of strength and confidence, this woman who is so caring and funny andgood, my heart fills nearly to overflowing. And as I think all of these things, the storm outside starts again with a small crack of thunder, and I remember something that happened last night.
Or did it? Did I mutter that I love her?
Maybe I was dreaming. Or maybe she didn’t hear me. Or, fuck, maybe I said it and then left her hanging to deal with however she felt about it.
Her eyes flutter, then open, and she smiles up at me.
“’Morning, baby.”
“Good morning. I made coffee.”
“You did? Thank you. Come here and kiss me,” she demands.
I lean over and kiss her sleepy mouth, and when I pull away she smiles up at me.
“You’re so beautiful, Evie,” she says, still smiling, and it’s those devastating dimples again.
Nervous suddenly, I hand her coffee to her, and she struggles to sit up before taking it, leaning her back against the wood headboard.
“Everything okay?” she asks me after taking a few sips.
“Um, yeahhhh…”
She arches one dark brow. “But…? Because I can hear that ‘but’ in there.”
“But… Did I… Did I say something in my sleep last night?”
