I bent my head and brushed my lips against hers.
When I pulled back, her smile was wider. She brought her hand up, her thumb brushing my cheekbone. “I like this new routine.”
“But I still get coffee, right?” she asked, her tone deadpan.
A laugh shot out of me. I pulled her in, wrapping my arms all the way around her and squeezing. I felt her laugh too, a quiet vibration against my chest. I pressed a kiss into her hair and breathed in the scent of her shampoo.
“Yeah,” I said, my voice rough. I let her go and finally handed her the mug. “You get coffee.”
Our fingers brushed during the handoff. She took a sip, watching me over the rim. The tightness I’d carried for ten years was gone. This was what I’d been missing.
I knocked on her bedroom door. It was cracked open, and I could see her at her desk, glasses on, focused on her laptop screen.
“—just need to cross-reference the final totals,” she said to someone on a call, then held up a just-a-second finger to me without looking away. She hit a button on her keyboard. “Sorry, I’m on mute now.”
I smiled. Dr. Mode Claire was a force.
“I’m heading to practice,” I said, keeping my voice low.
She finally looked over, her focus shifting to me. She reached out and snagged my hand, her fingers warm. “When will you be home?” she asked.
The question hit me right in the chest. No one had asked me that in a decade.I loved it.
I brought her hand up and pressed a kiss to her knuckles. “Probably not until after two.”
She nodded, her eyes staying on me. She didn’t let go of my hand. “Okay.” She gave my fingers a slight squeeze. "Watch out for those maniacs on e-bikes.”
Practice was a blur. My mind was back at the apartment. When I pushed the door open, I saw the plant.
A small basil plant in a simple clay pot. It was sitting right on the floor in front of the balcony door, positioned perfectly in a patch of full sun.
I stopped. My gear bag slid from my shoulder and thumped onto the floor.
I walked over and crouched down. I pinched a leaf between my fingers, rubbing it gently. The sharp, sweet scent burst into the air. I checked the soil. Moist, but not wet. She’d watered it.
“I know you love fresh basil.”
Her voice came from the kitchen. My head snapped up. She was leaning against the counter, holding a glass of water.
“And if it matters to you,” she said, her voice quiet but clear, “it matters to me.”
I stood up. I didn’t think. I just crossed the room in a few strides and pulled her into me.
My arms wrapped around her, one hand splaying across her back, the other cradling the base of her skull. I buried my face in her hair and just held on. I felt her arms come around my waist, her hands fisting in the back of my jersey.
I tried to find the words, but they wouldn't come. So I just held her tighter.
I felt her relax against me, her head tucking under my chin. We stood there in the quiet, holding on, while the smell of basil hung in the air between us.
****
The dinner dishes were done, the kitchen clean. She was curled on the couch, reading, while I finished wiping down the counters. I tossed the rag in the sink and walked over to her.
I stopped in front of the couch and held out my hand. "Come outside with me for a minute."
She looked up, a question in her eyes, but she placed her hand in mine without a word. I led her through the dim apartment to the balcony door.
The night air was cool. The city glittered below us, a million pinpricks of light mirroring the sky above.
