But for the first time ever, the idea of hanging around doesn’t seem so bad. Actually, the thought of staying in Kentucky tomorrow and sending Hartley back to Sugar Creek brings tears to my eyes. Not just because I’d miss him, but because I know it would hurt his heart.
“This feels right. At least for right now,” I say quietly.
His shoulders sag in the most minuscule way, but I notice. I hold my breath, worried that I’ve upset him or have changed the vibe between us.
He kisses the top of my head. “Right now works for me.”
In typical Hartley fashion, his words are simple and to the point. He’s not frustrated by my candor. There’s no demand forme to give more than I’m able to give. He’s … Hartley. The best kind of man.
I hold him tighter, pressing my lips against his sternum.
“Besides,” he says, “I’ve waited a long damn time for right now.”
On the surface, it’s a statement. In reality, it’s a confession. He’s confirming my earlier suspicions.
He has been waiting for me.
The realization steals my breath as I try to come to terms with it, the truth of his words wrapping around my heart, squeezing gently.
Despite my wounds and flaws, Hartley loves me. Even though I walked away from him with the excuse of wanting something more than this small town, he continued to love me. He saw me. He gave me space.
He gave me his heart years ago, and I’ve been too scared to accept it.
“You make that man complete. When you’re not around, he can barely hear your name without walking out of the room. It’s as if it hurts him too much not having you there that he can’t sit still.”
Tears fog my eyes, and I sniffle them back softly. I’d thought she’d been talking about him years ago, but she was talking about now, too. And all along, as I sat in whatever apartment I was renting in whatever city I was living in, I was thinking about him, too. Turning men down because they weren’t him. Asking my sister for information as subtly as I can because God forbid Hartley have social media.
And that tattoo …
My bottom lip trembles.
I love you, Hart.
I tuck myself closer to him, my hand flattening over his heart. I wish I could tell him my thoughts and explain how much hemeans to me. But I’m only decent with words when I’m breaking people up or helping them quit a job in writing.
That probably says something about me.
“Hart?”
He hums a response.
“I think I’ve waited a long damn time for right now, too,” I whisper.
He presses a kiss, then another, to the top of my head. “Get some sleep.”
I close my eyes as something warm and terrifying blooms in my chest, wondering if the most dangerous thing about Hartley Adler isn’t that I love him. It’s that I could have this. Every day. And it’s how I’m already starting to imagine that twelve months with him won’t be enough.
CHAPTER
TWENTY-TWO
Mira
“This isn’t going to take that long at all,” Hartley says, surveying the contents of my apartment. There’s a question in his eyes that he doesn’t ask. It’s probably,“Where’s all of your stuff?”
“The furniture stays,” I say, lacing my fingers through his. “This was Clint’s apartment before I moved in.” A smile tugs at my lips. “He moved in with Jeff, so it was perfect timing.”
Hartley nods, pretending not to pick up on the fact that Jeff is gay.
