“So, you know I’d never do anything to hurt you?”
Oh.
Right.
I forgot.
This is how he’s letting me down easy.
How dreadfully flighty my mind is…
Swallowing hard, I say, “Y-yeah. I know you’d never do anything to intentionally hurt me.”
His weight shifts on the mattress as he turns toward me. The somehow darker, blurry outline of him consumes my vision. “No, Citrus. Neither intentionally nor accidentally. I wouldneverhurt you.”
My heart squeezes. “How can you know that for sure?”
“Because.” Warmth soaks into my skin as his hand finds my cheek, cups it, cajoles. “I am committed to giving you every consideration. You deserve nothing less.”
Tentative, my fingers find his wrist, and I hold his heat to me. “You…are the kindest man I have ever known. The kindest person. I hardly know what I’ve done to deserve any of it.”
He draws nearer, kissing my forehead. The action eases the tingle of panic racing across my clammy skin. I soak it in, desperate to remove the fear suggesting it’s the last mindless caress I’ll ever get from him. His lips move, soft against me. His stubble scratches as he speaks. “You are you. That’s enoughto deserve everything.” His breath fans into my hairline. “What Ines was saying earlier…”
I tense.
“I’m sorry. She’s blunt. Headstrong. If what she implied earlier made you uncomfortable at all, please tell me.”
What she implied earlier? About…us getting married?
I am deeply curious whether or not she’sactuallyworking on a wedding dress covered in lace lemons. Probably not, right? The entire conversation was a cruel joke, wasn’t it? That’s what happens when people go off script—they get confusing, and often cruel.
I ask, “Did anything she said make you uncomfortable?”
He deadpans, “Most of what she says makes me uncomfortable. She has a unique gift for that.” His huffing breath runs across my cheek. “But…this…” He lets his hand slip from my cheek, down my arm, to my waist. “This is okay?” He reels me in, carefully. “Still?”
As relief floods, I say, “Of course.”
His lips graze the top of my head, and I swear relief floods into him, too. “Good.” Apprehension leaves him, and his body swallows me up.
He’s still wearing a stupid shirt, but I am cuddled properly against it, tucked safely in his arms. No matter what happens, whatever trials or monsters I face in the future, no matter how difficult anything I come across is, I know only losingthiswould hurt more than I’d be able to bear.
Chapter 30
♥♥♥♥♥♥♥♥
Let the preparations begin.
Eight.
Eight. Beautiful. Hearts.
Waking up and checking my relationship status in my book is a genuine affliction, actually. Evenings can be a little frantic—Samson’s tired, I’m tired, the last thing I want to do is delay when he can go to bed by obsessively checking in with my sassy journal—but the mornings?
The mornings are for manic optimism.
It’s just that over the course of my being here in the Ridge, I have found my optimism crushed into dust.
Today, my heart races as I stare at the eight beautiful hearts beneath Samson’s name, right beside his pressed cherry blossom.
