“I love you, too,” I said. “And I would run away with you a thousand times more.”
Kit
I’d promised myself I wouldn’t, but as midnight London time approached, I found myself checking my phone every few minutes to see if it was over yet, if I was really just plain old Kit again.
Nine minutes to go.
Last time I’d checked, it’d been eleven minutes, which made the previous two minutes officially the longest of my life so far—although I expected the next nine would have them beaten.
A sudden pop almost startled me into dropping the phone.
I turned to see Andy pouring a sparkling white wine into two champagne flutes I was nearly certain we hadn’t owned yesterday.
“Don’t you think we’re starting a little early?” I asked, blinking at him.
“It’s nearly midnight somewhere.” He shrugged, moving to join me on the couch and passing one of the flutes to me.
He knew. Of course he knew. He’d probably been watching the time as well.
I loved him.
“You’re much kinder to me than I deserve,” I said, sipping from my glass and then setting it down on the coffee table.
The familiar coffee table, set between the familiar couch and the familiar telly, in the familiar apartment that was myhome.
Or at least, that was where the person who made it home also lived.
I was still serious about looking for a place with a bath. Sometime. No rush.
I’d probably have to think aboutbuyinga flat somewhere, or even a house, although I wasn’t sure yet how to delicately bring Andy around to the prospect.
“We need to work on your self-esteem,” Andy said, setting his glass down as well and leaning back to wriggle something out of his pocket. “In the meantime, I have that list for you.”
“List?” I asked, accepting a crumpled piece of paper from him.
“Of things it’d be sexy to hear you say.” Andy grinned.
Ah,thatlist.
Well, it’d certainly take my mind off waiting.
I unfolded it and squinted at Andy’s untidy scrawl, struggling at first to make it out.
“Andy,” I said, reading the first line in the dotted list.
“Love it when you say my name in that accent,” Andy encouraged, sipping his wine.
I snorted, but continued. “I know you love me more than anything in the world, including chocolate-covered pretzels, coffee, and Star Trek re-runs.”
I raised an eyebrow.
“Keep reading,” Andy said. “I’m listening.”
“I think we should institute a clothing-optional policy while we’re at home,” I read, smiling wryly.
Andy looked at me hopefully.
“I’ve never once insisted thatyouhave to wear clothes at all,” I pointed out. “I get cold.”
