Page 45
I’m awash in that pesky joy from his compliment. It’s a surge of something more than lust. I don’t know what to do with it; it’s oozing out of me without a place to put it.
His voice is quiet. “I checked my phone a thousand times this morning. I missed you but apparently, I didn’t even warrant a text. I get it, your busy schedule of getting up and to the airport, couldn’t even find a second.”
I quickly explain, “I didn’t know you left a number. The maid cleaned most of the message before I could get it.”
“Likely excuse. Wait, she came in while you were sleeping?” He cocks his head to the side.
“Why didn’t you wake me? You left me.”
He laughs at my vulnerability and takes both of my hands in his. “I tried. I even checked to see if you were breathing after I shook you for like two minutes and you didn’t wake.”
I exhale. “Yeah, I sleep crazy deep. Should have told you that.”
He smirks. “You think? Freaked me the fuck out.”
I shift to get closer to him. “Freaked the maid the fuck out too. She bolted after getting a good look at the hickeys on my stomach and my full beaver, yelling, ‘But I knocked. I knocked.’”
He laughs. “I was going to miss my ride to the airport so I had to bolt. Hence the lipstick number. But make no mistake, you are absolutely not a mistake.” I grin as he leans forward, and our lips are so close. The recycled air is buzzing between us, then we come together and kiss gently. It’s quiet and perfect. I grin into it, and he pulls back. He runs his knuckle along my jaw. I sigh.
He says reverently, “And how long will I have you in my town?” I sit up, and our hands break apart. He looks disturbed. I gesture with my mimosa at him. I swallow the drink in two sips. My hands are instantly a little damp, and I don’t want to have shattered glassware while I ask what the hell he means. Given our twelve-hour history, one of us is getting a scratched cornea if that happens. That sweet dopamine high is gone, and now I’m sizzling with adrenaline. I lean over, grab at his shirt, and yank him as close as possible. This can’t be real. He can’t really fucking be real.
“YOUR TOWN?”
He crooks that sexy as hell eyebrow at me. He looks thoroughly confused. He’s not nearly as confused as I am. “Yes, as in Chicago—‘My Kind of Town.’”
I cannot contain myself. “As in ‘Sweet Home Chicago?’” My voice is loud, the pitch is about four tones above my normal speaking voice.
He nods at me, still confused.
“I don’t need Christmas or my birthday. I don’t need any other holiday ever again because this is the biggest holiday gift of my life on February 15th. From now on, we’ll celebrate Destiny Day going forth, and that’s it.” I grin widely. “Clark and Balmoral.” My heart flips as I tell him my cross streets.
There’s a small gasp. He squeezes his eyes shut, shakes his head in disbelief, and smiles. He leans forward and says, “Wisconsin and Sedgwick.”
I whisper his neighborhood, “Old Town.” His lips brush over mine, and I kiss him. And nothing else matters.
He hovers over my lips and whispers the name of my neighborhood, “Andersonville. You don’t live in New York.” It’s a statement, not a question.
I whisper back, “Neither do you.”
He shakes his head at me. “Thank god. I had no desire to figure out how to commuter-plane date you.”
My eyes light up, and I bite my bottom lip. “You want to date me?”
“I want to do a lot of things to you but I’ll start with dating.”
His hand tangles into my hair as he pulls me as close as possible. I’d like to climb on top of him, but I’m a little sore and tired. Gymnastics might result in a hospital visit for us. I back off and shake my head, but he doesn’t let me go far.
I say, in between light kisses on my neck, “Well, I guess we ended up in a long-distance relationship anyway.”
He smiles. “So far. Fifteen minutes and six neighborhoods away.” I shrug as if it’s an impossible task. He flashes the smile that arrested me last night before we even spoke. I wonder if it was meant for me all along. “We should probably start saving to meet up soon. I guess we could plan a weekend together somewhere in the middle.”
“A weekend in Wrigleyville. Sounds heavenly but only if the Clark 22 bus is running on time.”
His thumb strokes my lip gently then tugs. “I have faith we can survive a little adversity. I mean, I literally burned for you.”
We kiss deep and long. Our tongues find the answers to all the questions. They’re dipping into our future, forging our new path. The one we get to explore together.
He says, “Now, if you don’t mind, I had a hell of a night and I’m exhausted.” I giggle, as he throws a blanket over me and arranges one for himself. He slides my hand into his. “So, quit your yapping and sleep with me. Then later, I can ask all the questions we forgot. Like what’s your favorite pizza topping, and which side of my bed will you sleep on?” I laugh and so does he. There’s an ease to it.
