But damn it—I want her. All of her. I don’t just want the easy parts. But wanting it doesn’t make it easy.
I’m going to have to work for it. That’s the real truth. She’s not the kind of woman you win once and coast with forever. She’ll test me and push and run as fast as she can. Which probably isn’t very fast, but still. I’ll have to hold my ground and chase her. I’ll have to make it safe for her to come back, every single time.
And some part of me—a tired, cynical part, the part of me alone in this bed right now—wants to ask: Is that what you want, Nico? Are you ready to exhaust yourself for someone who might not stay? Someone who might always think you’re just another one of her bad ideas?
But then I remember her face in the mirror. The way she looked with my hoodie as armor, covering the marks I made onher skin underneath. The way she gave herself to me, and the way she is mine.
What’s the truth I want to live with?
The next time I see Annie “Who I’m 99.9% Sure I Love,” she is a beautiful, bossy whirlwind of activity.
She flits across the vast, yawning space of the trendy restaurant that is currently holding the welcome party. She’s fixing flowers, checking in with her parents, getting them water, getting May drinks, getting Tom drinks (begrudgingly, but still doing it). Asking waiters and waitresses if they need help. Grilling the wedding planner, but in a firm, supportive,I’ve got youway. Stopping to socialize with every single person in this room, putting the “Welcome” in Welcome Party. Drawing everyone in as she does, muttering inside jokes under her breath, making them laugh and stare in awe of this gorgeous, spectacular woman and feel lucky as hell to be granted her genuine attention.
I can’t help but smile, because I fuckin’ get it.
I spend the first ten minutes here just standing by the bar and watching her. On high alert.
It turns out to be worth it, because there’s suddenly a moment, a split second in time, when panic crosses her face while she’s talking to May. Something is wrong. And I wait for it… and her eyes fly around the party. Looking for something.
She’s looking for me.
I all but shove through the crowd, plowing whoever the fuck over to get to her. And when she sees me, the relief that crosses her face almost brings me to my knees.
I open my arms, and she comes home.
“Nico,” she breathes, all the tension immediately leaving her body once it’s wrapped up in mine.
I love you, I don’t say. “What’s wrong, honey?”
She sighs. “Nothing, anymore.”
It’s on the tip of my tongue to say it.
“May just told me there was a massive miscommunication with some of our cousins.” She peers up at me, resting her chin on my chest. “They’re all bringing their kids, Nico, and this is supposed to be a child-free wedding. But it’s fine. I can handle it.”
“You need my help with anything?”
“No,” she says firmly. “This is on me. There’s a bookstore down the block. I’m gonna go get some books, and we’re having story time. They’ll probably have crayons and coloring books and arts and crafts, too.”
“I’m gonna go get it, Annie,” I tell her, with a kiss to her forehead. “Let me.”
She shakes her head. “You should be enjoying yourself?—”
“Stop. I’m gonna go for you.”
“For May. And Tom, you mean.”
“Sure,” I say. “But mostly for you.”
She suddenly has that (previously to me) unreadable look in her eyes. And then, shocking the hell out of me, she says, “I missed you this morning.” But the way she says it is almost like a dare.
“Annie. Baby.” I’m so relieved that I squeeze her so hard her ribs flex. “This was the worst morning I’ve had all week.”
Her face gets gentle and dreamy. She gets on her tiptoes and presses a soft kiss to my lips. “We’ll talk, Nico.”
I can’t help it. I grab her whole face and make out with her in the middle of this Welcome Party. ‘Cause her mouth is throwing a Welcome Party for my tongue.
She finally peels herself away, laughing softly. “Go,” and I do.
