What a fool she was for thinking that. What an idiot I’ve been for letting her. I would never consider Hazel in the same category as other women I’ve slept with. She would always be the only one in her own category.Ever.
“You also sent me a stone.” Another statement.
“I did.” Another confession.
“Thank you,” she murmured. “For being with me on that day.”
I felt some tension melting away between us, and I smiled at her. “Anytime.”
“So, I have a question,” she said, her mood shifting right before my eyes as well as her position on the couch. She was now further from me, but she stretched out her legs on the sofa with her tiny toes lightly brushing my thighs.
“What are we watching?” she nodded toward the TV I’d set up, and I felt my spirits lift, too.
“Well, we have Netflix or cable, but I was thinking we could watch this.” I showed her the DVD, and she paused.
“But that’s... You told me you only watch it on January 1st.” A flicker of hesitation crossed her face, but her eyes curved into a smile.
“Don’t worry, we’ll watch it then, too,” I said, my voice carrying a quiet promise. “But if you want, we can watch something else,” I added.
“No, no, I do,” she replied without hesitation. “I really do.”
“Good,” I said, excitedly grabbing her ankle when Hazel’s whole body suddenly winced in pain, and I froze. We both locked eyes, dread and fear rushing through my head.
“You said he didn’t hurt you.” My voice low and dangerous.
“He didn’t. I—” She tried to pull her leg away, but I quickly yanked the sleeve of her pants up to see what kind of damage was there.
“Hazel, don’t lie to me. If he—” I stopped myself mid-sentence, my breath catching as I finally saw her ankle. The skin was delicate, a slight reddish tint, and on it, a freshly made tattoo etched into her skin. The very same drawing I had sketched for her with a Sharpie in Portugal. The same place. The same design with some improvements. My heart skipped a beat, disbelief clouding my thoughts as I looked up at her.
“I had it made yesterday. I just... I just loved it too much,” she confessed, her eyes nervous, holding my gaze as if waiting for me to scold her or think it was ridiculous. How could I? I lightly brushed my fingers along the inked lines and felt goosebumps forming on her leg.
I can’t believe she had it made.
Time froze, and for that small, fleeting moment, we were in that small bubble again. My fingers traced the curve of her calf, drifting past the ink of her tattoo, and a soft sigh escaped her lips. The air thickened, the pull between us undeniable. My gaze fell to her lips, and for just a heartbeat, I was on the verge of closing the distance, of reaching for her soft cheek, when—
Ding dong!
Our gazes remained locked. Neither of us dared to move.
“I ordered food,” I said, but stayed put, still holding her leg in my hands.
“Good, good. I love... food.” She said the last word softly, like it had a different meaning in her mind. We both knew it did.
I reluctantly let her go, cursing Murphy and his stupid law on my way to the door. When I came back, we both settled into a cozy atmosphere, chatting, watching the movie, eating sushi.
I told her how absurd, funny, and strangely captivating the briefcase-swapping scene inOscarwas. Almost the cinematic equivalent of watching a surgeon juggle scalpels mid-operation. She laughed before launching into real medical horror stories and explaining to me why I was wrong, while I just tried to capture the warmth of her presence.
For the first time, I felt it in my bones how much I wanted this kind of life.
A life with Hazel in it.
As the credits of the movie rolled on the screen, I realized she had fallen into a peaceful, deep sleep, her head resting gently on my shoulder, her breath steady and calm. And when the tiniest moan escaped her as I pressed a soft kiss to her forehead, I wondered how on Earth I ever dared to push her away, when my body and my heart knew she belonged here, in my arms, all along.
49
Hazel
I’ve always been an early riser, but even before opening my eyes, I knew it was far too early. The middle of the night, actually. A full stomach and freshly washed hair—a combination that usually cradled me into the deepest sleep—hadn’t worked their magic tonight, despite wrapping me in a warm and soft veil of comfort. Yesterday’s mess flooded my mind, and then, I remembered.
