“Who?”
“Just an old friend. He’s who I want to see in New York. He’s not exactly warm and friendly, but I love him, anyway. And he tolerates me.”
“Like most people, I imagine,” he says, and I nudge him playfully. “So, why the name Monty?”
I grin. “I like the Monty Python films.”
He bursts into laughter, and I press my face into his chest as I laugh, too.
“What was your childhood like?”
I sigh. “When I was younger, it was pretty magical. My sister was my best friend. Christmas Eve was her favorite time of year. We used to have this tradition.” I adjust myself next to him so I can play with his beard. “We’d open one present on Christmas Eve, and it would always be pajamas. And even though we always knew what it was, it was so exciting, you know?” My smile is real, like it always is with him, but I never thought I’d look back on these memories and want to share them. “We were happy for so long.”
He takes my hand, kissing my fingertips one by one. “What happened to them?”
My smile fades, and in my mind, I hear the crack of a gunshot, smell my mother’s perfume, and watch blood spreading through silk sheets. “They were killed.”
He watches me. “I’m sorry.”
“Yeah, me too.”
We’re quiet for a while, and I lift myself out of the memories before they become too painful.
“Do you have to go to New York?” Guy asks quietly.
I tilt my head up, my heart lifting again. “You really want me to stay?”
Our eyes are locked, that sapphire blue snatching my breath as always. He kisses me softly. “I really want you to stay. With me.”
My breathing picks up. “Together?”
He nods gently. “Together. But … if we do this, then you have to promise me: no more killing.”
Panic grips me. I’ve never given myself to someone before.
I’ve made sure that I never needed anyone. People let you down. They lie to you, abandon you, use you. If you leave first, you can never be left. I built a wall around my heart, and Asher may have chipped away at it, but I have a feeling Guy would bulldoze it down.
But when you’re drifting from place to place, all you’re looking for is a home. A forever place to settle down, to finally rest.
Maybe for me it isn’t a place.
Maybe for me it’s Guy.
… Maybe he’s the home I’ve been searching for.
“Okay,” I say. “I’ll stay. And I promise … no more killing.”
Fireworks erupt, bangs and crackles outside the window. Colors light up the living room, blues and pinks and reds dancing across the coffee table.
I glance over my shoulder, then back at Guy. “If you planned that, then your timing is impeccable.”
He laughs. “It’s New Year’s Eve.”
Moving aside the food board, I grab Guy’s hand and pull him to the window. I open the drapes further, allowing the color to light us up. My smile spreads, and Guy puts his arm around my waist to pull me closer.
“Happy New Year, Lina,” he whispers.
Chapter 11
