“Can you walk me to the powder room because everything looks like blobby shapes to me right now.”
Baird clasped my elbow. “Were you just going to pretend you could see? Why didn’t you tell me?”
“I didn’t want to be a nuisance.”
“You’re never a nuisance.” He swung me up into his arms and I lost my breath for a second.
“You have to stop doing that!”
Baird chuckled and strode to the powder room. He lowered me to my feet in front of the mirror and stayed behind me, bracing his hands on the sink so I was caged in.
“Are you going to watch? Because it’s not pretty.”
“I’m going to make sure you make it safely out of my house and to my car. Next time, you bring extra contact solution and an extra pair of glasses that you can leave here.”
I paused, pulling my eyelid down.
“You should probably bring some other stuff too. Extra toiletries and clothes. And I’ll do the same for yours until we move in together after the wedding.”
I gaped at his blurry reflection.
“What?” he asked quietly, uncertainly.
“Nothing,” I whispered, my heart in my throat. “It’s just … feels nice to not play games with you. For you to just … for you to really want me in your life and not be afraid to say it.”
Baird pressed his chest to my back, his lips lingering atmy ear. “The only way I’ll ever not be in your life is if you ask me to go. And even then … I’ll fight for you.”
Tears threatened to spill, exacerbating my current problem. I elbowed him. “Don’t make me cry right now!”
His body shook against mine with amusement. Then he gently slapped my butt. “Hurry. We’re going to be late.”
I muttered under my breath about arseholes saying perfect things when you had your finger in your eyeball, which only made him snort-laugh. As quickly as possible, I removed the contacts and dumped them in the trash with Baird’s guidance.
Everything was blurry, so it was hard to gauge the distance between objects. Once Baird had everything he needed, he took my hand again and guided me outside. He locked up one-handed, not letting me go, and then helped me over the cobblestones toward the building’s car park.
His grip was gentle but firm, and I bit back a giddy smile.
Will wasn’t the hand-holding type.
Charlie was. I’d loved holding hands with him when we were kids.
“What are you thinking?” Baird asked as we stopped by his car.
Realizing I could pretty much say anything to him, I smiled at his blurry face. “I love holding hands with you.”
He squeezed said hand. “Then my hand is yours to hold whenever you want it.”
There went those damn tears again. My nose stung trying to hold them back. “Seriously, you have got to stop saying the nicest things.”
His face drew closer, his lips brushing mine. He whispered against them, “Never. Not until it sinks in.”
“What sinks in?”
Baird didn’t answer. Instead, he opened the passenger door and helped me into my seat.
“What sinks in?” I repeated.
He closed the door and rounded the bonnet, sliding into the driver’s seat.
