“Say it again, please,” he says, his mouth curving up into a smile.
“I love you.” I pull in closer. I kiss his neck. “I love you.” My lips graze up to his ear. “I love you,” I whisper into it. And finally, I drag my lips to his mouth, and they hover right above his when I say, “I love you.”
When Ellis presses his mouth to mine, I feel his love in the tender brush of his lips, the sweep of his tongue. He pulls me into his arms and the kiss deepens. A breeze kicks up and he wraps his arms tighter, cocooning me as we make up for lost time.
When we finally pull apart, he rests his forehead on mine, catching his breath. “I have a lot of questions about this past-life stuff by the way.”
“I would be surprised if you didn’t.”
“I mean, you realize you’re kind of a witch?” he says, and I can feel his smile against my cheek.
“I prefer ‘shaman.’ ”
He lets out a cute snort-laugh and there’s nothing more perfect than this moment. I feel the potential of it all—the love that overwhelms everything else. In Ellis, Idofeel steadiness—it’s in theunwavering way he loves me. He’s steadiness mixed with the recklessness of entrusting someone with your entire heart. He’s home and he’s adventure.
“So, when are you going to read my face?” he asks as he tugs playfully on a lock of my hair.
I look into his beautiful face. My eyes caress every part of it. “There’s no rush.”
“Wedohave a long night ahead of us,” he says, tucking my head under his as I stay wrapped around him.
My lips brush against his throat. “We have an entire lifetime. And maybe more.”
His grip tightens. “I’ll settle for this one.”
52
The Next Year
I get the phone call on my birthday.
Betty squawks and I hear Ellis soothing her when I grab my phone off the kitchen counter. It’s messy—bits of parsley and splashes of olive oil staining it. Signs of a kitchen well loved and used. The sight of it makes me smile before I notice who’s calling.
I answer. “Hello?”
“Hi, is this Cassia Park?”
“Yes, it is.”
Something in my voice must alert Ellis, because he walks into the kitchen. My eyes take in his soft yellow T-shirt and navy shorts. His messy hair, his long-legged, rangy grace as he steps in next to me.
Our eyes meet and his go wide.
“Ms. Park, I’m calling from the Eastside Fertility Clinic.”
“Hi.” My voice sounds comically breathy and Ellis laughs. I elbow him.
“We received your message and are happy to go ahead and set up your first egg-implantation appointment.”
I do just that and then I circle the date on my wall calendar (something Ellis makes fun of me for, endlessly). We step back to look at the visual symbol of what’s about to be a huge journey.
“Did you just startsweating?” I ask.
“What! No!” He touches his forehead frantically.
I start cackling and he tackles me. Then he lets go immediately. “Oh, god, I should be more careful.”
“Okay, nothing has been implantedyet. Also, you better not be this precious with me when and if I do get pregnant.”
