Page 114 of Once Upon a Crime
“I thought it was me doing the leaning. How about you? Are you happy enough?”
“No.”
His face fell. “You’re not?”
“Turns out ‘happy enough’ wasn’t enough. I’m thoroughly happy.”
“Me too. I feel like we won the numbers game.”
He smiled at her in the same unguarded way he had the previous night, as they’d lain in his new house, listening to the ocean outside the windows. And she knew he felt vulnerable there sometimes, but he declared it was better than shutting himself away his whole life. While the moon lit the contours of his torso in silver and charcoal, he’d quoted from a Whitman poem.
“‘And that night, while all was still, I heard the waters roll slowly continually up the shores. I heard the hissing rustle of the liquid and sands, as directed to me, whispering, to congratulate me…’”
He’d fallen quiet, passing the baton to her.
“‘For the one I love most lay sleeping by me under the same cover in the cool night,’” she’d continued. “‘In the stillness, in the autumn moonbeams, his face was inclined toward me. And his arm lay lightly around my breast—and that night I was happy.’”
They’d both reassessed their relationship with the world in the past six months. Lana still didn’t feel like she belonged in it, though she was becoming more accepting of being visible, and Griffin was a long way off being comfortable walking around like a regular person. But that was okay. Because they belonged together, and when they were together, they created a brilliant new little world.
As they headed into the theater, Griffin turned to Lana, his smile lighting her up. And then he kissed her like he didn’t care who was watching.
