“What do you mean?”
“Will you attend the race? I mean, will you attend the racefor me?”
“Do you want me there?”
I feel like a fucking asshole for the doubt that shrouds her voice.
“I’m an asshole,” I confess.
She scrunches her face in confusion, and I almost want to wait longer to explain myself because I like this face. I’m finding I enjoy every one of her expressions I’ve encountered so far.
Yes, even the ones she’s made when annoyed with me for trying to control her life.
“I haven’t been clear about where I stand with you,” I say.
“What it is I feel for you. I think about you day and night. Yes, at first, it was the surprise of finding out you were carrying my child. But it’s turned into more. I don’t want you in my apartment now because it’s convenient, but because I want you close … closer to me.
“I want for there to be an us, Alyssia. Not just a you and me as co-parents.”
“Oh,” is all she says.
I remain hopeful by the fact that she doesn’t pull her hand out of my hold.
When I tug her arm, motioning for her to stand from her chair and move to sit in my lap, she comes. Reluctant at first, but she comes.
With one hand stroking up and down her back and the other trailing a path over her shoulder, the one where a large rose tattoo sits, covering the scars from the accident. The same shoulder she rubs whenever she’s nervous or frightened.
She doesn’t pull away when I touch her there.
I lean in and press a kiss to that shoulder, and even though it’s through her shirt, the little sigh she releases lets me know that she felt it as if it were skin to skin contact.
“How do we know any of this is real?” she asks.
“It’s real.”
“How do you know though? What if it’s just the circumstances that make us feel like this? Everything’s happened so quickly.” She gestures to her belly.
“I know it’s real because I’ve never wanted to know as much about a woman as I want to know about you. It’s real because I’ve never laid awake at night thinking about another woman and wondering if they’ve eaten enough today or what their favorite type of cheese is so I can get it on their breakfast sandwich the next morning.
“I’ve never wanted to take care of anyone the way I do you. No woman has ever haunted my thoughts before every race I’ve had since I met her.”
She raises an eyebrow. “Every race?” Her hand cups my cheek, and a warmth I’ve never felt before washes over me.
I turn my head, kissing the inside of her palm. “Every. Single. Race. Since Vegas.”
“That was before you knew about the baby.” She sounds doubtful
Now I admit something I hadn’t even admitted to myself. “I’ve wanted you since then. One night wasn’t enough. I thought this feeling would go away eventually. Then I saw you in New York and I got lucky.”
She laughs. “I used to think I had the worst luck.” She sighs.
“And now?”
“Now? I want you to kiss me.”
Doesn’t take much for me to grab her face between my hands and bring our lips to together. The first proper kiss we’ve shared since Vegas.
This one is different though.
