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Chapter Fifty-One

Bea

Cal nearly walks into me as we enter his apartment.

“What?”

I nod toward the kitchen.

“My mug.”

He follows my gaze.

“Yeah?”

“It’s still here.”

He looks confused.

“And?”

I turn toward him.

“You didn’t move it.”

“Why would I move it?”

I don’t have an answer.

A few weeks ago, seeing my things scattered through his apartment had made me panic.

Cal watches me.

“Bea, are you ok?”

I turn back to him.

And kiss him.

He freezes.

Only for a fraction of a second. Then one hand catches my waist and the other cups the back of my neck, and suddenly I’m against him, kissing him, weeks of missing him compressed into the space between one breath and the next.

God.

There he is.

His mouth opens over mine, and my fingers fist in the front of his hoodie.

He makes a low sound against my lips.

That sound.

I missed that sound.

I push him backwards until his shoulders hit the closed door.

He laughs into my mouth.