Page 45 of Then There Was You
“It’s not funny, Sosie.” His tone is firm, the words curt, and so unlike what I’ve ever heard him say. “I’ve met guys like him.” Concern lassos his brows together in the center, the determination reaching his eyes. “He’s not going to just let this lie, so I need to know if you’re in danger.”
Sitting up, I cross my legs in front of me, letting the gold fabric of my dress drape over them. “You don’t have to worry about me. I can handle him.”
“You shouldn’t have to handle him.” He leans forward, resting his arms on his legs. “And I shouldn’t be fucking worried that he’s going to do something to hurt you.”
I had narrowed my eyes, not understanding the concern before, but hearing the anger in his voice put it in a new perspective. He’s worried about me. I exhale a calming breath and reach over to wrap my hand over his. I can’t muster a fake smile, and I wouldn’t want to even for his benefit. He needs to hear me. “I’m not in danger.”
Our eyes stay locked, and until he blinks and the line between his brows eases, we remain in a standoff. I finally add, “He’s never been a threat.” I sit back and shrug. “It was nothing more than an agreement between friends. It was easy?—”
“It was settling.”
I sigh, the spell we were under now broken. “Why are you upset, Keats? Do you think I can’t handle Gregory?” Too unsettled to sit still, I stand. “I’m twenty-seven. I’ve dealt with this my whole?—”
“You’re twenty-six.”
Throwing my hands out from my sides as impatience sets in, I snap, “What?”
He stands, letting the disappointment that’s writing a soliloquy across his face pull him away from me. “Your birthday isn’t for another week.” Walking to the back of the couch, he stops and asks, “Or did you forget?”
My arms fall back to my sides as my mouth does the same. My mouth goes dry, so I swallow twice as hard as if that can save me from the error I, myself, made. My pride is too fragile to take the blame, though. “I know when my birthday is, Keats.”
“At least someone other than me fucking remembers.” He walks into the kitchen, leaving the light off, but opens the fridge, providing plenty of light to see him.
“You don’t get to do that.”
He shuts the fridge empty-handed as if that was something to occupy him rather than to retrieve anything from it. Pushing his palms to the counter, he glares at me. “Do what?”
“You don’t get to be mad about things that only affect me.” I come around the couch and walk to the other side of the counter. “Why are you so upset when it was me living that life?”
He stands straight, crossing his arms over his chest, but his gaze never leaves mine. “Because I remember your birthday like it’s my own, but it was that asshole who got to put a ring on your finger.” The intrusive thought escapes him, verbalized and set free into the universe.
Keats isn’t one to talk only to hear his own voice. When he speaks, it’s because he has something to say, but those words are thoughtful and come with a purpose. What he just said didn’t come from his head. It came from the heart.
Now the sarcastic retort that was on the tip of my tongue tastes wrong. I catch the remorse in his eyes, the confession that came out without a second thought. He knows as well as I do that we’re still just two people who have stuff to work through. The pizza and foot rubs, the comfort between us is nice, but they’re only a distraction from our real issues. I whisper, “It’s probably too soon to be declaring our undying love.” The grin I’m wearing feels too faint to make an impact. I move into the kitchen, but when he doesn’t shift, I slip between his arms and lean against the counter, facing him. We’re so much closer with him leaning forward as if he welcomed the invasion. I playfully poke him in the chest and say, “I was only teasing about love.”
His gaze dips to my mouth before licking his lips and sliding back to my eyes. Taking hold of my hand, he brings it higher against his chest and holds it to his heart. “I don’t think you’re so off base.” He stole my breath the moment he spoke, but the admission is what makes my heart thunder in my chest. His arm wraps around me and pulls me close. Dropping his head to mine,he whispers in my ear, “The feelings I have for you never died, Spark.”
I want to crumple to the ground, to wallow in the swoons of hearing my nickname again. I don’t. Instead, I try my best to hold my composure despite the tears wanting to blur my vision by clinging to him in return. Tucked in his arms, I’ve never felt so safe in life. As no time has passed, every emotion I felt for him six years ago comes rushing back. “I’m starting to think we’re cursed.”
“Why do you say that?”
“Our timing is always off.”
“Don’t worry about timing and some made-up construct of the value.” He kisses the side of my head and whispers, “Tonight, everything has changed, but I still owe you something.”
I lean back and look up at him. With his arms wrapped around me like I’m his entire world, I ask, “What is it?”
“Hello.” One of his hands slides up into the back of my hair, loosening the strands from the comb and hairpin I used to secure it. Plucking one, he tosses it to the kitchen counter before retrieving the other and doing the same. My hair comes down in waves of light blond sections, hitting my shoulders and then falling over them.
I smile and whisper, “Hello.” It might not have been a proper hello with a dramatic kiss like I thought about—in the hallway outside the party, on the street when we left the pub, earlier when we confessed feelings that probably should have stayed locked up a while longer. It’s worthy of propriety and what we need to start over.
And then he kisses me.
CHAPTER 20
KEATS
Ididn’t expect to kiss her, but she welcomed it by gripping her fingers into my shirt and pulling me to her. Her lips mold to mine, and a moan escapes her as she kisses me back. I move in, my body pressed to hers against the counter, and caress her cheeks while my fingers dip into the sides of her silky hair.
