“I’ve never felt like this about anybody. Not even Lennon. I didn’t know what I was missing out on, because I hadn’t met you yet. And I know we haven’t known each other very long, but that doesn’t matter to me. I knew Lennon my whole life and thought she was the one for me, and I was dead wrong.” A smile tugs at my cheeks as I watch Addison absorb my words. “I want every one of your kisses and sighs and irritated looks. I want to love you loudly. I want to love you messy.” Addison laughs in a soft, incredulous way, and I continue. “I won’t settle for less, and less is anything that’s not you. And I thank god Lennon didn’t choose me. Because, Addison, I love you.”
I feel lighter and more terrified, more vulnerable, than I ever have.
Addison’s face breaks into a large, open smile. Until now, I hadn’t fully known what it meant to say someone wasglowing, but now I get it. Addison is radiant.
She launches herself at me. I catch her, and the momentum takes us both back against the reclined chair.
Addison steadies herself on my chest, her beautiful face backlit by the moon. “I love you too, Brady. And it all seems so crazy and totally opposite of what I saw for my life, but that’s okay. Thank god someone else knew what I needed to feel complete, because obviously I didn’t have a clue. When we received Warren’s prognosis, I was certain my life was over. For a long time I was stuck in a waiting place, and it was hell. Finally I came here, and yes, I moved on physically, but emotionally and mentally I was in the same place I’d been in from the day the doctors told us. And then I met you. And you awakened in me something that has never been tapped, Brady. Never. Not even by Warren. And that made me feel guilty as hell. Honestly, it still does, but I’m learning how to navigate that. There’s nobody I’d rather wake up beside, or bake for, or jump off cliffs with.” She takes a deep breath, then says, “I love you.”
23
Addison
I’m high.
High on life. High on love. High on Brady.
Ready to move forward. Ready to be truly happy.
For the first time in so long, my soul feels at ease. The guilt is still there, but it’s a fraction of what it used to be. Instead of telling myself it’s wrong to feel that way, I’m accepting its existence.
Beside me, Brady stirs, tightening the arm he has wrapped around me, pulling me in even closer.
Last night, after the declaration that created this high, we went inside and quietly climbed the stairs to my room.
We laid down, and Brady pushed inside me, holding me together while I went to pieces beneath him.
I can’t imagine moments more perfect than last night, but then he’s beside me now, waking up, his brown hair sticking up in places, the sheet leaving behind an indentation on his cheek, and I realize I’m wrong. The perfect moments with Brady just keep getting better, like the swelling crescendo of a symphony that never ends.
“Morning, baby,” Brady croons, his voice thick and sleepy, wrapping around me like rough silk.
“Good morning.” I kiss the inside of his elbow, the soft skin where his forearm and upper arm join. “I wish I could stay like this all day, but” —I reach out, tapping the face of my phone where it lies on the nightstand— “we’ve overslept. By a lot. And I need to start the trial run for the bake-off.”
Reluctantly, I roll away from Brady and stand. I look down at him and use all my strength and willpower to fight the urge to jump back in bed. A body in motion stays in motion, so I keep going. First to my dresser, where I slip on shorts, and then to my closet, where I choose a shirt that has a neon rainbow on the front of it.
“I was hoping you’d change your mind,” Brady grumbles. I look at him in the mirror above the dresser.
He’s sitting up, the sheet bunching around his midsection. I know from our close proximity a few minutes ago that he’s naked.
Turning around, I lean a hip against the edge of the dresser. Right now, it’s best to keep my distance. If I walk any closer to him, even to swiftly peck his cheek, I’ll be a goner, like an insect perched on a carnivorous plant.
Unlike those insects, I absolutely want to be devoured. Which is why I have to keep my distance. I tell this all to Brady, and the smugness that crosses his face is endearing, not annoying.
“Do you promise to let me devour you later?” He gets out of bed and tugs on his clothes from last night.
“Pinky promise,” I tell him, holding out my pinky from my spot beside my bedroom door. As soon as his shirt is fully on his body, I open it. I’m much more likely to follow through with my plans if it’s open.
Brady winds his pinky around mine, using the union to pull me in. He kisses me, bites gently on my lower lip, and backs off. He’s teasing me.
“I know what you’re doing.” I step around him and start down the hall.
“Good.” Brady smacks my butt, and I yelp in surprise. When I recover, I do a little shimmy just out of his reach.
“I know what you’re doing,” he says as we start down the stairs.
“Good,” I shoot back, making him smile.
When we get downstairs, I avert my gaze to avoid my grandma’s knowing stare. Not Brady though.
