“I love you,” I whisper in her ear.
The silence draws out the ache in my chest, worsening it until she speaks again.
“I know.”
I kiss the curve of her neck the way I did this morning. “Lana, do you love me?”
“Christian—”
“Do you love me?” My voice cracks.
Lana turns in my arms, finding a position on her side before she throws her leg over my hip, and pushes her fingers into the hair at the back of my head. “What makes you think I don’t?”
“I don’t know,” I say honestly. “My head does this thing…”
“Tell it to stop,” she says gently. “It lies.”
“It isn’t that easy.”
“I know,” she whispers. “But I’m here.”
“I’m here too, Lana,” I say. “For good.”
Her hand comes to rest on my cheek, her thumb brushing up and down its bone. “Okay.”
I nod because that is all I will be getting tonight. She doesn’t seem racked with disappointment or anger, instead it just reads as sadness I wish I could pluck out of her. A sadness I had a big part in giving to her.
“Christian,” she whispers, “I think you’re beautiful.”
“I think you are beautiful too.”
“And you are brave,” Lana says. “And stronger than you think. You’re kind and sweet. And even though I’m angry with you for lots of things, you’re still my person. You are still the person I want to call and tell everything to.”
I swallow, blinking.Thank you,I want to say, but the only thing I can manage is, “Okay.”
Lana inches forward and her lips brush mine softly—a featherlight touch that feels like a ghost passing through. I press back a bit harder to feel it the way I need to, and she does the same.
“Sleep,” she whispers when she pulls away.
I hold her and keep her close because I didn’t know who I was when I lost this. And right now it feels as though I’ve come back into myself. Right place, right time, right person. Lana isalwaysthe right person.
She’smyperson.
It’s a heavy form of intimacy to be like this with her, vulnerable—to look at her and see her, to have her see me. Like this, I can see her fears, worries. Her happiness and love. And she’s so fucking beautiful—barefaced, messy bed hair, tired caramel eyes.Perfect.
“Lana,” I breathe her name just because I can. I say hername because now I don’t just see her in my head, she’s in front of me. When I say her name, she’ll respond. She’ll say mine back.
“It’s okay,” she says. “Go to sleep.”
I shift even closer. “Lana.”
“Christian,” Lana breathes, positioning herself closer.
I move my head forward, barely an inch, and my forehead is touching hers. Lana presses back. Her breath is sweet on my lips, and I hate not sleeping with her. I hate not having her this close every night and not waking up with the left side of the bed cold.
My hand cups her cheek, my thumb smoothing up and down her cheekbone, and our breaths are in sync. “I’m sorry.”
“Just go to sleep,” she whispers softly. “It’s okay.”
