His eyes flick up to the ceiling, then back to my face. He seems more alarmed by the breakfast offer than anything I told him. “I’ve tried very hard to find you not perfect in every way, but there you go, proving me wrong. And I’m just here… just me.”
“I already know you’re not perfect, and that’s okay.” I kiss his cheek again. “It’s okay to be you. I like you. I like everything you are. More than enough.Always.”
He swallows thickly and audibly. I sweep my leg over the edge of the bed and off of his lap. I leave him alone with his thoughts, not because I want them to spin and wound him, but because I think it’s normal to need some privacy after a heavy, emotional conversation.
I don’t rush with the sandwiches or with making our espresso. For breakfast, I like fancy coffee. I like mine with steamed milk, and that naturally takes a while. I make him a double in a small mug and bring it and the plate back to the bedroom.
Shadow is sitting on the edge of the bed, feet on the floor, curled into himself.
He looks up when he hears my footsteps. I have the sandwiches on one plate on my left hand, leaving my other free to thread my fingers through the mug handles.
He brightens when he sees the coffee. He inhales, drinking in the fragrant aroma of dark, rich espresso. It overrides everything else, even the sweetness of the bananas.
“Mmm,” he mumbles. The gold flecks in the deep brown of his eyes light up when I set the mug into his hands.
The golden sun highlights the room so that I can see the twisted skin on the backs of his hands, twirling over some of his fingers.
“Mmm,” I agree. I brush a kiss over his forehead and plop down beside him and lean my head on his shoulder. Bubby hasn’t moved. She’s just close enough that I can reach out and stroke her soft side. “Thank you for staying last night,” I whisper. “I know that you were tired but thank you for not leaving whenyou woke up. It had to feel like the only safe, reasonable thing to do, but you stayed.”
He doesn’t say anything, but I hear how loud he swallows before he even sips his coffee.
I reach over him and grab a triangle piece of my sandwich. “When’s the next time you work?”
His mug pauses halfway to his mouth. “Why? That sounds ominous.”
I laugh. “No. I have a surprise for you.”
He groans.
Yeah. The last time I tried to do something for him, it was a bit of a disaster, but just a little bit. It ended in a good meal with laughter and obvious love between family and friends. We might not have all known each other well, and it had the potential to be hella-awkward with my mom and Rita both there, but it wasn’t. It turned into tonight, the first night we’ve spent together, and while I regret the pain and anxiety Shadow obviously felt before the symphony and his turmoil before it started, I can’t regret that I held him, that I kissed him, that I was there with him and he was here with me.
“Iknow, but this is a good one. I promise. It’s just you and me and your office.”
He blows out a long breath. “Tomorrow night. Thank god, or I might fucking combust before then.”
He knows it’s a sexy surprise, but he hasnoidea. I want to do something for him that I’ve never done with anyone. A super-hot, kind of filthy, first that I can give him.
I pass him a slice of his sandwich and try very hard to keep a straight face. “I promise it will be worth the wait.”
Chapter 18
Shadow
Ishouldn’t be this morose when I know that Fawnie is on her way with my surprise. If it was anyone but her, I would have told her to fuck right off with that shit. I hate surprises. I hate most things, actually, but especially that. Instead of saying any such thing, I texted her that I’d see her soon, and to drive safe.
I went straight into the quiet office, pulled out the desk chair, and started falling apart real fast.
That’s a lie. I’ve been unravelling for days.
My whole life.
Butespeciallythe past few days.
I’ve done so much thinking, allowing my brain and my body to process emotions instead of blocking them out and stuffing them down like I usually do.
I’ve come to the very obvious realization that I am well and truly fucked.
It’s Fawnie. It’s the way she looks at me, like she can see straight down to my soul, and she finds nothing black or sinful or evil there. It’s how I know that when she curls a hand over my heart, she’s silently telling me that she’s so glad that I’m alive, that I’m in her life, that I’m perfect for her, even if I could never see myself as anything less than flawed. She looks at me like she’d miss me until the day she dies if I went before her. Like she’d keep our memories as her greatest treasures.
