She grins, and my finger traces up her jaw, tucking a strand of hair behind her ear.
“Okay… how about at Herb and Leah’s, with the excellent Pinot Noir selection?”
“Warmer.”
“Hmm. With you?”
I huff a laugh and step in, brush a kiss to the corner of her mouth.
“With me.”
Her gaze lifts to mine, green eyes sobering and softening all at once. I can see the fight in her, the battle between self-preservation and honesty.
“Mason, I…”
For one nauseas moment I think she’s going to back away. I brace for it, every muscle preparing to break, but as her eyes meets mine again, there’s no more fear, no more doubt.
“I want to be with you, too” she says, voice trembling. “I want this.”
“Thank fuck.” I wrap my arms around her waist, pulling her tight to my chest, into every place I’ve kept empty. “Say it again.”
“I want to be with you, Mason.”
Everything that’s ever felt cold, suddenly melts clean away.
“Jesus, Frankie.” My forehead drops to hers. “That’s all I want, too.”
Emotion climbs my throat, and I grip the back of her neck to tug her into a kiss.
It’s slow at first, but when her fingers fist my jacket to pull me down harder, I lift her off the ground and crush my mouth to hers.
Her tongue slides against mine, and I can taste the tears on her lips. I know she’ll taste mine too, but I don’t care when I feel this full and alive.
Even though, yeah, it’s wildly inappropriate given the company.
When we break apart, she laughs.
“We’re making out in front of your dad.”
“Technically, your parents too.”
She snorts. “I can’t believe we’re making out in a cemetery.”
“I mean… not ideal. But, technically, they brought us together. They probably planned it.”
Her laughter bubbles out, raw and real and echoing across the snow.
“What would your Dad say?”
I glance at his headstone, then back at her. “Probably ‘it’s about time.’”
She smiles softly. “I think mine would say we’re a match.”
“And mine?” I nuzzle her temple, kiss her earlobe. “That festive bastard would say we’re amerrymatch.”
She blinks at me, eyes shining, and I see something shift. A door opening and a home being built, right here in the middle of snow and grief and ghosts.
“I think I love you,” she whispers so quietly it almost gets lost to the wind. “God, that’s terrifying.”
