“Olivia, all I want is to be in all of that, with you. To be there for you. To hold your hand while your life—ourlife— happens. I don’t want some fictional, finished version of you. This version of you is my fantasy. I want you now; I want you tomorrow; I want you always, anyway that you are.”
My tears cascade down my face, and he releases me slightly to look down into my eyes, his thumb swiping across my cheek bone in an effort to wipe my tears.
“Shakespeare really does have a way with words,” I deflect tearfully, overwhelmed by the way he loves me.
“Christopher Marlowe,” he corrects me, with a wink his eyes brimming too, “never had a muse like you.” I laugh a hearty, throaty laugh, any self consciousness I’d still been harboring washing away with each tear. I embrace him tighter, not wanting this moment to end.
“Don’t leave,” I say quietly, but I know he hears me because he softens, like he’s letting out a breath he’s been holding, like he thought I might push him away.
“Never,” he murmurs into my hair.
I pull back and meet his eyes. I know I’m a mess, my face streaked with tears and my hair tangled from the beach earlier, but he grins down at me with this smile only meant for me, like I’m the best thing he’s ever seen. I grin back and then he kisses me.
I feel the earth stop around us. The sounds of the diner fades out as he pulls me in harder, his hand tangling in my hair while his other pulls me in at my waist, and I realize this is the type of kiss they write songs about. It’s earth shattering, life changing. It’s the kind of kiss people have and say,“He kissed me, and I knew I would marry them.”My stomach is full of butterflies springing to life and whatever cloud had unwittingly colonized the space above me begins to dissipate, the lofty air of hope swirling around us. I feel different, so different from the girl at the beach. So different from the girl I was a few months ago. So, so different from the girl who came to Astor. I feel reborn, like my life is this beautiful landscape I get to explore. With him.
He pulls away and his eyes echo my thoughts. I know he feels it, too.
“I’ll never leave, Liv.” And then his lips press against mine, and he kisses me again.
Epilogue
Olivia
I slip on the black silk chiffon dress, trying to reach the back zipper, when I feel a large, rough hand run across my lower back. Ben lowers his mouth to my ear, his minty breath making my spine tingle.
“Let me help you with this,” he murmurs, the brush of his fingers on my skin sending a rush through me.
Even after the past few weeks, I can’t help the flush that spreads up my chest and I feel Ben’s smile before I see it. I turn and take him in in his Tom Ford suit, tailored to fit him in exactly all the right places. My eyes soak in every inch of him. It’s sometimes shocking just how dreamy he is, and that’s on a normal day.
Tonight, in this suit, Ben Cabot is possessing.
I let him zip me up, giving him a demure smile.
“We can’t be late Ben, Gen would be so upset.” I swat him with the back of my hand, but he catches it, kissing the back of it lightly.
“I never thought I’d see the day you’d be concerned with upsetting Genevieve.”
I roll my eyes, even though I know he’s right. Not even a few months ago, I would have told anyone with ears that Gen wasmy sworn enemy. It seems unlikely that she would so rapidly become one of my closest friends, but alas here I am, in Ben’s grandfather’s townhome, getting ready for her performance as the Sugar Plum Fairy inThe Nutcracker.
This is now the third time I have gone to Pop’s apartment and with only a week until Christmas it’s cozier than ever. There’s a fire crackling in the foyer and somewhere off in the distance Pop’s has a Bing Crosby Christmas record playing from a turntable.
I walk toward the full length mirror where Ben is now fidgeting with his tie. I begin straightening it for him and feel my blush creep back in under his gaze.
“I’m really happy, Liv.”
I smile still staring at the tie. “Yeah?”
He tilts my chin up to look at him, his brown eyes darken like they always do when he wants me to know he means what he’s saying.
“I’mreallyhappy, Liv.”
I bite my lip trying to disguise my smile, but he stops me, pulling me in and kissing me. He explores my lips with his, timidly at first, before pulling me closer, his hand cradling the back of my head as he seems to drink me in, like he needs me to survive, and time seems to hit a standstill. I think every kiss with Ben is earth shattering, the best kiss I’ve ever had, and yet he always finds a way to one up himself. I pull away and I’m met with Ben’s ridiculously perfect face, his lips puffy and pink from the kiss and his eyes filled with so much intensity that I’m tempted to blow the entire night off and stay in bed with him. I pat his tie, reorienting myself, and move to the mirror, reapplying my now smeared lipstick.
There’s a light knock out the door and Ben clears his throat trying to get ahold of his own hormones, apparently.
“Come in.” His voice is hoarse, and I feel like I’m about to go feral with need, but I force myself to get it together. Will enters, holding one hand over his eyes.
“Everyone decent?” Ben chuckles and I roll my eyes.
