Colby sets the pan on the stovetop and turns to me with a rakish grin. “Where were we?”
“You’re cutting me a piece of that brownie,” I say, pointing at the pan, eyes narrowed.
“It’s too hot.”
“I’ll blow on it,” I say affronted, giving him my best annoyed face. “Chop, chop.”
“You can’t be serious. It’ll burn you if you eat it right now.”
“It cools faster if you cut it,” I argue.
With an eye roll of his own, he grabs a plate, and puts a small piece on it for me. I lift the plate to my mouth, making a show of blowing on it a few times. It’s blistering hot when I put it in my mouth, but so delicious. I moan around the sweetness in my mouth, gasping when Colby surprises me with a kiss. He licks into my mouth, then pulls away with a triumphant grin.
“That was yummy.”
I kick him lightly on the stomach. “I wasn’t done.”
He blows on the brownie still on my plate with a wicked smirk. Delicately, he lifts a piece to my mouth, and I chew it slowly, just for him to kiss me again. Before long, I’m laughing against his mouth. He repeats this until the small square of brownie is gone. My cheeks hurt from laughing once we’re finished.
The storm outside worsens, sending the entire house into gloom. Rolls of thunder and flashes of lightning fill the room. Is my heart breaking in time to the cracks of thunder? Because each day that I spend with Colby will make walking away from him that much more painful.
“Want me to find fireworks on the television for us?”
I shake my head vehemently. “Play me something on the piano?”
Colby laughs lightly. He thoughtfully scratches at his newly grown beard. “What do you want to hear?”
“Something that you think is beautiful.”
Colby sits down at the piano bench, and I sit in the chair off to the side so that I can simultaneously watch him and the tumultuous waves outside. With my legs tucked up under me, I watch enraptured as Colby’s fingers glide over the keys. I’ve never had much of a musician kink, but Colby playing the piano really does it for me. His back is so straight, his fingers nimble across the keys, a gentle, happy look on his face. God, he looks happily lost as he taps the keys.
It takes me a while to recognize the song. “Vienna” by Billy Joel. My mother loves this song. We used to dance around the living room to this song as it played on her record player. Colby sings the words as he plays, wearing some emotion I can’t place. I feel absolutely entranced by him. How did he know I love this song? Did he know it would undo me?
He finishes the song and turns to look at me, some sort of raw hope shining in his eyes. I open my arms with what I hope is a tender, comforting smile. Colby comes to me, kneeling between my legs, and hugs me close. Running my fingers through his hair, I hum the song back to him, giving the gift back to him that he so sweetly gave to me.
“That was beautiful, Colby. How long have you played?”
“My grandfather taught me as a boy,” Colby admits from where his face is pressed against my chest.
“Were you close with him?”
“Very much. My parents own a business and worked nonstop. My grandfather was retired by the time I came along, so we spent a lot of time together.”
“I’m so glad you had him, baby.”
Colby bumps his forehead against my chest before lifting his weary gaze to mine. “Can I just hold you tonight?”
I swallow around the sudden massive lump in my throat. His eyes are so sad, so relieved, that I will give him absolutely anything he wants. Anything. I nod and press a firm kiss to his forehead.
“Whatever you want, it’s yours,” I whisper.
It’s late evening, but the storm stops in time for us to watch the sun dip below the horizon. We don't change our plans though. Instead, Colby lies down on the sectional in the living room, and I lay my body over him. His fingers glide up and down my back under my shirt in a gentle caress. The movement is maddening because of how much it thrills me.
“What’s your favorite food?”
I turn my head on his chest to look out at the waves. “Pizza.”
“What kind of pizza? Are we talking cheap delivery or wood stove?”
