“Oh. Do you want me to take him?” he reaches out a hand to take the leash.
“Are you ashamed of me in this amazing outfit?” I ask, swiping a coffee from him and taking a sip.
“Never.” He shrugs. “I want to spend every moment with you so I hope you come with us.”
WE RETURN TO THE APARTMENTwith cold noses and warm hearts. I turn on the gas fireplace and put on another pot of coffee.
“Are you hungry?” I ask.
“Only if you’re eating.”
“I’m starving,” I admit, firing up the stove and scrambling eggs with cheese, and toasting some bread. “I love having you here,” I admit as he gets plates from the cupboard. He eyes me with a smile, setting the plates down with a clink. “Don’t read into it,” I add.
“Every day with you is the most perfect day,” he says and the memory of just two nights ago drifts over me.
“How is that, though?” I ask, scooping eggs onto each plate while he smears butter and jam on the toast. “Honestly, our time together is minuscule compared to anyone else, and yet I just feel...”
“Miniscule doesn’t equate to less meaningful,” he reasons, not disrupting his task. “I wish I had more nights in the snow with you. I wish I had more of your summer days. I wish I had more evenings where we watched stupid movies and spilled wine over everything. But every time I’ve gotten to do that, I have loved it more than you even know.”
I’m frozen, holding a hot frying pan I had every intention of throwing in my sink to wash. Instead, I stand there, overwhelmed and missing him even before he’s gone.
He drops the toast on the plates and moves closer to me, swiping a jam covered thumb over my lip. I lick it off and he kisses me hard. The kind of kiss that makes me moan and my head drop back into his hands. There’s a clatter and I realize he’s tossed the pan in the sink.
“Can you promise me something?” I ask as he kisses me furiously. Fingers in my hair, teeth on my lips.
“Yes,” he breathes against the hollow of my collarbone.
“When you come back...” I breathe through kisses, hiking my leg around him.
“Whatever you want. I’ll do that. I’ll be that,” he says, softly against the flesh of my chest bone, moving down... down... until he’s removing my camisole and revealing the soft skin beneath.
“That I get to be yours... even for just a little while,” I say, but there’s a begging lining my words. “Don’t forget about me.”
He answers with his mouth, kissing me again and saying. “I’ll never forget. I promise.”
HOURS LATER, WE LAYin my bed, staring at the ceiling when he says, “Turn over.”
I do, faceplanting on the pillow with a comfortable groan. He starts tracing letters on my back.
“I,” I say. He continues and I say, “H.”
He keeps going.
“A.”
He kisses my shoulder and continues.
“T.”
And more letters.
“E.”
“T.”
“H.”
“I.”
