Page 93 of A Song for You

Forty-Seven

Jay

Bubbly Colbie Caillat

Soft feet pad into the bedroom as light filters through the open door. I crack one eye open to find Cat in a white waffle-knit robe, her long hair in a messy bun, pushing what appears to be a cart of food. The cart creaks as she rolls it over the rug, and I blink a few times, trying to jostle myself awake so I don’t miss a minute. We were up far too late, but when I glance at the clock, I see it’s almost noon.

“Morning,” I rasp.

Cat’s face lights up with a smile as she realizes I’m awake. “Thought I’d have to wake you up with a blowie,” she teases.

My hands fall behind my head quickly, and I close my eyes. “Don’t let me ruin your plans.”

Her loud laughter draws them open again. I selfishly want to witness every moment of her happiness. It’s easily become my favorite view. Her smiles. Her joy. Her.

She moves to the windows and draws the curtains back, bathing the room in a golden light. “Rise and shine, Mr. Hanson. The entire world is awake.”

“I don’t give two fucks about the entire world, Kitten. You are the only thing that matters.” I pat the space beside me on the bed.

“Well, I’m awake too. And I’m starving. Someone had me up late into the night.”

“And you loved every minute of it.”

Cat settles beside me in bed, her gaze eating up my naked body, which is tangled in the sheets. Her hand goes to my heart, and those brown eyes find mine. “I did. And I love you,” she says softly, her lips tilting up.

“Fuck,” I whisper. “Say it again.”

“I love you, Jay. Only you.”

She doesn’t know it, but no one has ever said those words to me. My father doesn’t deal in emotions. If something doesn’t make him money, he gives it no thought.

And my mother? I’m not sure if she never used those words because we lived in such a cold house, or if she was like him too.

So many of my memories of her are tinged with betrayal, so it’s hard to know if I’ve colored her that way, or if she really was always without light.

Cat’s bathed my world in yellow. Brightness and joy I never even considered, let alone hoped for.

Leaning down, I press my lips to hers, and she meets me with a hungry kiss. I grasp her hips and tug, lining her up precisely where I want her.

But she smiles as she shakes her head. “I’m starving, Jay.”

Smirking, I thrust upward, giving her a taste of what I have to offer. “As am I.”

She smacks me lightly. “For food, you goober.”

Chuckling, I slide my hands up and down her bare legs. “Goober? Really?”

Her head hits my chest as she laughs, and the sound fucking does things to me. She does things to me.

My heart is in fucking knots, and it’s all because of this woman.

She presses her lips to my chest and then slides off me too quickly for me to stop her.

Begrudgingly, I sit up. “What’d you order?”

Shimmying her shoulders, she croons, “Everything. Waffles, pancakes, bacon, eggs, croissants, yogurt. You name it; I got it.”

It’s the pancakes that I zero in on. “Haven’t had them since my mom died,” I whisper.