CHAPTER THIRTY-NINE
Layla
My stomach drops with his words and I find it hard to breathe. Is it possible? Of all the songs in the world, the one playing in his worst moments bearsmyname?
“It sounds crazy, I know, because I never believed in fate, Layla. It scientifically never made sense. I couldn’t see it, couldn’t feel it. I never believed in ‘meant to be,’ or destiny. I thought I made myownfate. But the night I met you, I had a gut feeling so strong that you were meant to be mine, and then when you turned around and I saw the dove on your shoulder, it was like … a reunion. Then when I heard your name, it was like my past had collided with my future.”
He runs his fingers over the spot where my tattoo sits, as if he’s memorized its precise location on my body. My eyes fill with tears as I listen to his truth.
Is this truly what I’ve read about in books?Written in the stars?Love at first sight? And why can’t that exist? Why have I been fighting this? Why have I been afraid? I’ve seen the couples who have been together all their lives, who say they knew the moment they met that they were destined for each other. Whyis the world so quick to assume something like that can’t be true? And whycan’tit have happened to me?
“Everything in me slowed in those moments in the desert … the dove, the lyrics, they all felt like my end, but they weren’t. They were a change in the direction of my compass, a new north, and everything I’ve done since has led me to you.” He kisses my forehead and my chest twinges. “And now you know why.”
I have no words to offer him. From nearly being strangled when he woke up to the intense words he’s speaking now, it feels almost like a physical manifestation of what I’ll always have with him. One extreme to the next, but nothing unintentional. No boundaries or secrets, just us and the truth we’re meant to live. I reach up and kiss him; it’s all I have to offer after being told a story like that.
Sean pulls me into his arms and kisses me for so long that it feels like a promise, solidifying what’s next. There’s no fighting this any longer. I have no idea what the future with him holds, but I’m in too deep now not to find out.
“Mmmm,” he groans into my lips as the sky outside the windows begins to lighten. “I think I owe you a real apology for scaring you like that …”
I smile into his lips, my core already heating with anticipation. “You definitely do.”
One strong arm flips me over onto my back so quickly that I yelp as he settles between my legs. He looks out the window at the morning sky.
“I’m going to take you somewhere today, but I think there’s just enough time for you to come on my tongue before I cook us breakfast …”
I think I must have drifted back to sleep for at least an hour, but now I’m leaning against the kitchen doorway watching Sean, who’s cooking blueberry pancakes for us. The morning sun is shining in and he’s wearing his usual pair of jeans and black t-shirt.
I admire the beauty of him. He doesn’t look up but I’m sure he knows I’m here. My eyes trace the hard lines of his face, the dog tags at his neck that are always there, the way his arm flexes as he grips the handle of the pan, and the way he moves, always so calculated and intentional. It might be the perfect view to wake up to. I realize he must have left to get a change of clothes and I wonder about his home. How he lives in his own space. I imagine it’s tidy, organized and minimal.
He finishes cooking and shuts off the burner, covering the plate of stacked pancakes. The moment his eyes lock onto mine, I feelit. It’s the rush I imagine you’d feel taking your first step onto a tightrope, or in the first second after you jump from a plane.
It’s the rush of free falling.
There’s nothing particularly special about this scene before me, but I swear I see the future in thisonemoment. I see him cooking for me like this, years from now, our children coming in and out of the room at all different ages, with Sean stealing kisses from me in the corner while our kids tell us how gross it is. I see him older, still wearing his cut as he heads out the door. Salt in the pepper of his beard. I see it all. I want it all, and I can’t find one scrap of logic in that after only days of knowing him, but maybe he’s right. Maybe our souls are tied.
I make my way over to where he’s standing and reach up to kiss him before I grab a coffee.
He unravels the tie holding my robe closed and slides his warm hands over my waist, bending down to kiss me deeper, and I instantly break out in goosebumps. His face is almost painedwhen he pulls his lips from mine, like he just can’t kiss me enough. Right now, I feel the same way.
I think of the phone call I overheard on the first morning he cooked me breakfast and his confession yesterday about taking a man’s life, and I know I want to learn more about this man that I’m dreaming of forever with.
“Tell me more about what you do,” I say, as his thumbs graze my waist.
“I work for the government.” He smirks as he backs away to wipe the counter. My eyes drift to his wide shoulders, which lead to those thick arms that feel so good wrapped around me …
Shit, you’re hopeless, Layla.
I force my eyes back to his face.
“And for the club, what do you do? I want to know more.”
He side-eyes me cautiously, unsure. “These aren’t secrets I share with just anybody.”
“I’m ready,” I promise him.
He takes a moment before answering, setting down the towel he was using before turning to face me, watching me, judging my ability to handle who he is. I wait as he pulls a knife from its sheath on his belt, holding it in his hand. “The people who know these details about me, the ones I trust … we’re bonded by blood.”
My breathing increases as I watch the blade glint in the morning sun.
