Page 53 of Imperfection is Beauty

And that was when he placed his hands on either side of my shoulders and braced his weight, and there, mere inches from my face, he said, “I remember every fucking thing about you, Shortcake. Everything.”

The warmth I was now feeling wasn't from me being sick, either I was deliriously happy because of everything he had done for me, or my give-a-shit filter left the station when I whispered, “If I wasn’t sick, I’d kiss you right now.”

His eyes flared, “Shortcake, I’d fucking let you. You being sick or not.”

“You’re married still,” I told him, wanting desperately to have the right to reach up and smooth the wrinkle between his perfectly shaped black brows.

He didn’t say a word, just stared into my eyes, and then with one hand still keeping himself right where he was, he removed his other hand, reached into his back pocket, and pulled out his cell.

He punched some numbers into it, and then placed it to his ear, and then… he gave me his eyes again.

Damn, but a woman could drown in them and never want to resurface.

“Yeah, do me a favor?” I stared into his eyes as he listened to what the other caller said.

Then he said, “Okay, need you to tell someone who’s important to me about my divorce.”

I watched, fascinated as his eyes flared, and then he said into the phone, “Hang on one sec.”

And then, he pulled the phone from his ear, did something, and then said, “Okay, you’re on speaker. State your name and who you are. And then repeat what you just told me. Word for fucking word.”

“Hello, I’m Lance Davidson and I am a lawyer with Davidson Law. Mr. DuPointe’s divorce to Tonya Jessup was made official two weeks ago.”

“Thanks, Mike. Talk to you later.” And then he hit some buttons, then let his phone drop from his hand, and I didn’t pay attention to where it went.

My body and my brain were focused on something else entirely.

“Does that mean…” I trailed off when I watched something in his eyes soften.

They softened so much to a point that I never saw in anyone else, and something told me, I never would see that in anyone else.

Softly, he whispered, “Does that mean what, Shortcake?”

I swallowed, and then decided it was time I rectified being a chicken, “That… that you’re legally free and I can kiss you.”

He shook his head, “No, Shortcake. Because it’ll be me, kissing you.”

Then, he moved his hand and cupped the side of my face, and then ever so slowly he lowered his mouth down onto mine.

And yeah…. Being a klutz, fucking sucks.

Because I just sneezed into this beautiful man’s face.

I closed my eyes tightly, and whispered, “Please. Please tell me that didn’t just happen?”

He chuckled, and then I felt him move.

But not away from me. Oh no. Just down to one knee.

And then… carefully I felt his hands pulling my hands from my face, and the big man that he was didn’t say a word until I cracked one eye open, saw his smiling face, and then cracked the other one open.

“Raincheck on the kiss, Shortcake. You can bank on it.”

And then before I could reply, I hurriedly grabbed another tissue and then caught my sneeze in it.

“Okay, time for more soup, and then in four hours, some of the liquid, and then you’re going to rest.”

I nodded, then continued to eat my soup and sip on my tea, and in that whole time, Marcus now sat back on the couch with his feet up on my coffee table.

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