“Like I’m worth fighting for. Like my weird brain is a feature, not a bug.” She traces my bottom lip with her thumb. “Like maybe I don’t need an algorithm to tell me what’s right.”
“You don’t,” I agree, catching her thumb between my teeth gently. “Sometimes the best things can’t be quantified.”
“Speaking of things that can’t be quantified...” Her other hand slides under my shirt, fingernails scraping lightly over my abs. “How much longer are we going to talk?”
I suck in a breath at her touch. “That depends. What would you rather be doing?”
“I think you know.” She pulls me down for another kiss, this one all heat and promise. “I’ve been very patient. Very good. I deserve a reward.”
“What kind of reward?” I’m already trailing kisses down her neck, finding that spot that makes her gasp.
“The thorough kind. The kind where you show me exactly how much you missed me.”
“That could take a while,” I warn, nipping at her collarbone. “I missed you a lot.”
“Good thing we have all afternoon.”
She tugs at my shirt, and I pull back to remove it, tossingit aside. Her eyes go dark as she takes me in, hands immediately exploring the exposed skin.
“Statistical anomaly,” she murmurs, tracing the lines of my chest.
“What?”
“You. Being this attractive and this talented and this willing to grow.” Her hands still on my shoulders. “Do you know how rare that is?”
“About as rare as finding someone who writes structured apologies and makes my plant thrive,” I counter, pulling her onto my lap. “We’re both statistical anomalies.”
“Maybe that’s why we work,” she says, then gasps as I find that sensitive spot behind her ear. “Ethan...”
“Yeah?”
“Less talking. More of that thing you just did.”
I grin against her skin. “Yes, ma’am.”
“Though for the record,” she adds, even as her hands tangle in my hair, “your communication skills have improved dramatically.”
“Thanks to my tutee,” I murmur, then capture her mouth again before she can analyze that too.
This time when we kiss, it’s with the promise of more. Of time to explore, to relearn each other, to build something stronger than before. Her body presses against mine, soft and warm and perfect, and I know we should probably talk more about logistics and expectations and the future.
But right now, with Piper in my arms and Greg watching approvingly from his windowsill, with honesty finally winning over fear and our story rewritten with a better ending, talking can wait.
We have all the time in the world to figure out the details.
Right now, I just want to show her exactly how much I love her complicated brain and terrible organizational skillsand the way she makes everything, even heartbreak, into a learning experience.
“Ethan?” she says against my mouth.
“Mmm?”
“Thank you for being patient with me. For letting me figure out how to be brave.”
I pull back to look at her, this brilliant, beautiful girl who chose me.
“Thank you for being brave enough to come here. For fighting for us instead of waiting.”
“No more waiting,” she agrees, then pulls me down until we’re horizontal, and she's beneath me on the bed. “Starting now.”
