“Not that one, that’s for sure.”
He laughs. “You mean . . .” He licks his lips and wipes sweat from his brow. “The one I’m determined to get you to say yes to?”
“That’s the one.” I swipe at his tongue when he runs it across his lips again.
“I . . . will you . . .” His breaths pick up and he swallows before continuing to speak. “Will you stay tonight?”
“Yes,” I say way quicker than planned. “Yes, I’ll stay.”
“So the new promise will be for tomorrow, then?” he says with a sweet smile.
“Seems to be that way.”
“Well, in that case, I’m now the one who can’t wait.”
“That makes two of us.” I can’t wait for anything that has to do with him. But maybe I don’t have to. Maybe neither of us have to wait for anything ever again.
Twenty-three
Henry
“How about chili for lunch?” I suggest, sitting on the second porch steps as I use the railing to guide me.
Plopping down beside me, he slams something onto the sidewalk in front of us and rustles what sounds like cardboard. I took Huey out to the restroom while he went down to the basement to search for Christmas lights and more ornaments.There are large gaps on the tree, and I didn’t bring enough Christmas stuff from home to fill them.
“Soup sounds good. It’s supposed to get really cold later.”
“It’s already really cold,” I say, tightening my scarf around my neck, and he chuckles, tugging at one of the ends.
“Yeah. You’re right, it is. But it’s not in the negatives yet.”
“Well, let me know when it is and I’ll be sure to put on another pair of pants and a second sweater.” I wiggle in place, sticking out my tongue as snow falls from the sky.
“Or we can just stay inside and cuddle in front of the fireplace while eating leftovers.”
I smile. “That’s a good plan too.”
“If it was up to me, it’d be the only plan,” he says in a low, sexy tone. Who am I kidding, the man sounds sultry with anything he says. He could be telling me about a car driving by and I’d probably melt at the sound of his voice. It’s going to really suck when I can’t hear it anymore. When he realizes what my ex did. That this isn’t what he wants. That I’m not what he wants. I’ll do my best to enjoy it while I can, and I do, listening to him go on about how fast the snow is falling as he tosses the broken lights to the ground and hands me the good ones.
I stand up when he does and run inside to grab the radio from the kitchen while he starts punching the staples into the wood. I walk back outside faster than I did when I walked in, setting the radio next to the door. I feel for the outlet and shove the plug inside. It takes a few runs of my fingers to find the power button, and one of my most listened-to radio stations is already blaring through the speakers playing Christmas music.
“You’re one of the very few people I know with a radio,” he clips, slapping his hand onto the staple gun again.
“And probably one of the very few with a Walkman too.”
“You have a Walkman?” His voice jumps.
“Yeah. I’d sometimes shove my headphones on and play a random tape I made when I was younger while I worked on an art piece.”
“You have a huge cassette collection, don’t you?”
I laugh. “Maybe.”
“I’ll take that as a yes. I want to see it sometime. I miss mine. My mother was a major purger. When I deployed my first time, she donated boxes of stuff from my closet she didn’t think I’d need anymore.”
“Yeah, I’m kind of a sentimental hoarder and my mom gave up on trying to convince me to get rid of stuff. She said some fights weren’t worth fighting.”
“Hey, if it makes you as happy as you sound, I can understand why she said that.”
