Nate circled her in his arms and held her close to his chest. “You liked that?”
“For some stupid reason, I like you,” Jess said, wrapping her arms around his back.
She tucked her head into his neck, the softness of her hair brushing against the stubble along his jawline, her lips lightly touching his skin.
All this time wondering if she liked him and if he’d missed his chance, but she was here, in his arms, smelling so good—sweet and floral, like lavender or spring blossoms.
He kissed her shoulder and she responded by kissing him lightly at the base of his neck, stirring a familiar sensation within him. He couldn’t wait a second longer to kiss her. Heat rose through him, a warmth that made his chest tight and his body restless. He’d been waiting for this, aching for it, thinking for months about their last kiss.
Ever since that night he’d left for London, walking away like a fool, he’d replayed their goodbye on an endless loop: the way she’d looked at him, silently asking him to stay. His lack of action had haunted him and left him kicking himself. He should have sent the taxi away, missed the stupid flight. And above all, he should have stayed.
Then at the premiere, he’d had a second chance, but instead of chasing after her, he’d frozen. But somehow, miraculously, she was here now in his arms, and he swore he wouldn’t miss his chance again.
Cupping her face again, the softness of her skin under his palms overwhelmed him as he brought her lips up to meet his.
“I like you so much,” he mumbled against her lips, tasting the sweetness of her strawberry lip-gloss. He pressed his mouth over hers, finally giving in to the hunger he’d carried all this time. Her lips softened against his and she melted into him as if she’d waited just as long.
Nate slid his hand down the curve of her back, pulling her closer, needing her close enough to erase the months they’d been apart.
He kissed along her jawline, lightly down her neck, and then back up to find her lips. When she wrapped her arms around his neck, when she leaned into him with a delicious moan against his mouth, something inside him nearly broke and his whole body tightened with desire.
“Can we take it slow?” Jess whispered, almost shyly, uncertain, as if she wasn’t sure herself if slow was possible.
But of course it was. Love wasn’t a race. He’d waited this long for her, waited for the timing to be right, and he would wait for as long as it took.
“We’ve got all the time in the world.” He stroked back another strand of hair that had unwound from her ponytail, brushing his thumb across her cheek.
Of course, part of him wanted to devour her, but he also wanted to hold her gently in his arms, talk with her, enjoy everything about her. He wanted to live life with this woman and feel the years stretch out ahead of them, not missing a minute of it.
“Hungry?” he asked.
Jess laughed. “Starving.”
Epilogue:
“NATE?” JESS CALLEDas she entered the cottage. It was unlocked but empty. A single mug sat on the bench, as if Nate hadn’t been home all day–which she knew he had. Or he had only drunk tea and not eaten anything. It wouldn’t surprise her. That man drank tea like it was the only thing keeping him alive.
Most weekends, Jess was at the cottage, but during the week she lived with her cat, Jimble, in a small rental near Rangiora hospital. Nate had respected her request to take things slowly and she appreciated it, but Jess had been at the cottage more and more lately. If she was honest, it was starting to feel silly paying for two places, but was she ready for the next step?
Today being a Saturday, she’d usually be spending the day with Nate but she’d been called in for a birth, leaving him alone, working on the cottage. It turned out, old wooden homes took a fair amount of maintenance, but Nate seemed to enjoy it. In the year they’d been together, he’d painted the exterior and built a new deck. Both handyman jobs he said he’d never done before. Fancy London apartments didn’t need the same kind of work most New Zealand homes required. She’d been surprised by what he’d taught himself, watching online videos and befriending the staff at the local hardware store.
Jess had applied her skills to the interior, painting several landscapes for the lounge and one for the bedroom. Calmcountry living, and the lighter workload at the rural hospital, had rekindled the creativity she’d traded in for partying at university, and getting back to her true self felt good.
She touched the side of an oil painting near the hallway: a soft sweeping river scene, shining water swirling around grey boulders against a blue sky backdrop. This one had been painted on location. Nate trekked upriver with her for hours, insisting on carting her canvas and paintbrushes until they found the perfect location.
She smiled. Her grandfather would’ve been pleased she was getting back into painting. He’d always been so encouraging of her in everything she did. Painting made her feel grounded and connected to him again in a way she hadn’t in a very long time.
Jess checked the bedroom. Still no sign of Nate. Just a tidily made bed with hospital corners, the sheets neatly turned down. It was never this tidy after she’d stayed over. Her clothes were usually strewn over the floor and bed, sheets left scrunched and thrown back, forgotten about in their rush to fill their days off with better things than housework.
They loved making the most of their new country lifestyle. When they weren’t working on the cottage, they went on hikes, day trips into the mountains, or picnics down at the river. If it rained enough for them to call it a home day, they’d unfold the pull-out couch Nate had bought off the previous owners, drag blankets out into the lounge to create a cosy nest around the two of them, and binge watch classic films.
Jess made her way outside. Nate had talked about adding planter boxes around the edges of the deck. That’s most likely where he’d be. She headed toward the back of the cottage. “Nate? Hello?”
“Round the back,” he called back, his voice muffled.
As she turned the corner into the backyard, she gasped. Was she dreaming? Nestled under the trees along the back fence, sat the art studio she’d imagined back when she first stayed in the cottage during filming. It was as if it had materialised perfectly from her mind into reality.
She stood, hands over her mouth, taking it all in.
