“I can buy a bottle of water, Christian. Just relax.”
At the donut truck, I buy both of us bottles of water. Back at the picnic table, Christian has his head down using the llama as a pillow on the table. “Baby.” I straddle the bench and open a bottle. “Baby, drink some.”
Of all the times we’ve come to this carnival, I have never seen Christian as sick as he is right now—even as he drinks half the bottle of water. “I’m getting old,” he rasps.
I chuckle, rubbing circles on his back. “Let’s go home. I’ll make us tea to settle your stomach or something.”
“No, no, baby,” he husks, grimacing. “No, just give me a minute and we’ll get on the pirate ship.”
“No, we’re done with the rides tonight,” I say.
“I’ll bring you back tomorrow, Lana, I promise.” Christian frowns. “I’m sorry.”
“Don’t be ridiculous, Christian.” I hold his gorgeous face in my hands. “You’re sick, we’re going home. And yes, we can come back tomorrow.”
He smiles, which always makes me smile. His hands come to my face and his thumbs press into my dimples. “I love these.”
“I love you,” I murmur.
“I know.” Christian pulls me in, crashing his lips on mine. “There is somewhere we haven’t been yet.”
Christian stands and takes our llama with us. “Grab on,” he says and squats.
“What?” I stand.
“Hop on, Lana!”
“Okay, okay!” I wrap my arms around his neck and jump, my legs wrapping around his waist, and his hands catch me under my knees. “Where are we?—”
Christian is jogging, and I finally see where we’re going. The same photobooth we always visited during each carnival visit. Right in front of it, he squats and sets me down carefully. He opens the curtain and sits, putting the llama between his knees. I wait for him to find a comfortable position, even though he takes up the entire bench and his long legs are bent awkwardly in the small space.
Christian pulls me across his lap without hesitation. “Black and white or color?”
I adjust myself on his lap, wrapping an arm around his neck. “You already know the answer to that.”
He presses the button for black and white and the timer begins counting down from five.
Our first photo: our cheeks pressed together with a smile on both of our faces.
Our second photo: Christian licking my cheek and my face is contorted, mid laugh, as I try to push him away.
Our third photo: Smiling with our tongues out and touching.
Our fourth photo: I’m kissing Christian’s cheek, my hand on his other to hold him close, and a smile on his handsome face.
Our final photo: his hand comes around my jaw and he presses his lips to mine softly, kissing me even after the flash goes off.
His hand on my throat tightens slightly and I moan, his tongue grazing mine as my hand at his nape pulls him in harder. “I love you,” I breathe against his lips.
“I love you.” Christian pulls back slowly.
“Feeling better?” I tease.
His cheeks go pink. “A bit.”
I kiss him one more time.
He smiles, his cheeks burning brighter, and I know… “Lana?”
