“Guess what?” He says, holding the plate out to me with a smile.
I grin back. “What?”
“After learning I got the recording on my watch, Bailey confessed to everything. He’s going to jail.”
I squeal. “That’s amazing.”
His smile widens, and I can see the relief written across his features—the tension he’s been carrying in his shoulders finally releasing. “Yeah it is, now eat your pancakes.”
I roll my eyes but take the plate of pancakes from his outstretched hand. They’re still hot, the first taste like biting into a cloud. Puffy, light, sweet. The chocolate chips have melted just enough to create pockets of richness throughout. “Wow,” I say around the food. “You should have started cooking earlier.”
He chuckles. “If I remember correctly, you banned me from our New York kitchen.”
“Oh.” I giggle. “Yeah, maybe I did. Sorry about that.”
“It’s okay. I was on track to burning the building down anyway.” He gets comfortable on the bed next to me, the mattress dipping under his weight. “I’ve learned how to turn off burners since then, though.”
“You’ve come so far.” I wolf down a few more bites, surprised to discover the pancakes are almost half gone. Thesyrup pools at the edges of the plate, and I drag a forkful through it.
“How are you feeling?”
“Good. Still a little tired, but I think if I stay in bed for a few more hours I can go into the practice later.” I’ve already had to cancel two yoga classes and reschedule a number of client appointments. The guilt of that sits heavy in my chest, but I know better than to push through when my body needs rest.
“Please don’t push yourself.”
“I won’t. I don’t want to end up right back in another flare.” Full, I resist the last few bites of pancakes and put the plate on the bedside table.
“What do you think caused this last one?”
I hesitate, not wanting him to think he’s to blame for my health. It would be easy to come up with some excuse, but we’ve promised each other we’ll be transparent from here on out. “I think it was stress over what happened on the ski trip. It all caught up to me on the plane.”
He takes my hand in his, his thumb tracing gentle circles across my knuckles. “I’m sorry.”
“It happens. It’s not your fault. Stress is a part of life… and flares are a part of my life.”
He nods, and it’s a relief to see that he seems accepting of that. Not pitying. Not trying to fix it. Just accepting. “Want some more pancakes?”
“I didn’t even finish the ones you made me,” I laugh.
“They weren’t good?”
“They were amazing! Are you kidding me?”
He grins in pleasure, his smile lighting up the room. “How good?”
“Almost too good.”
He leans closer, his exhale tickling my face. “I didn’t know there was such a thing as too good.”
I try to come up with a response, but having him this close isscrambling my thoughts. Delicious shivers run up and down my arms, and my breathing speeds up. His eyes—those crystal blue eyes I’ve dreamed about for years—hold mine.
Taking the initiative, Oliver presses his lips to mine. It’s a slow, gentle kiss, yet it carries the weight of a life-changing moment. It’s a kiss between two people who have, in a way, defied the odds. Out of all the towns in the world, he moved to mine. He waltzed back into my life without even meaning to. That alone feels like a miracle, and it makes this kiss, and every kiss from here on out, holy.
The kiss deepens, his strong hands gently cradling my waist. I can tell he doesn’t want to hurt me, and he’s struggling to hold back. His touch is feather-light, careful.
“I’m okay,” I whisper against his lips. “I’m feeling pretty good.”
To show him just how good I’m feeling, I slide my hands under his sweater and up his stomach. His skin is warm beneath my palms, his muscles tightening at my touch. He folds into the touch, his fingers curling into the soft fabric of my sweatpants. The last remnants of my fatigue vanish, a wisp of smoke taken by the wind. I’m more wide awake than I’ve ever been, ready to seize the bull by the horns.
