Page 63 of Love Out Loud

My heart hasn’t gotten the memo that I need to do this for her, though, and it takes all my strength to very calmly say, “That’s great. How are you feeling about it?”

Lark immediately slumps, the dam that was holding back her wariness breaking before my eyes. “I don’t know. I was qualified before this, and it’s annoying that they didn’t see that. And a trial basis?” She rolls her eyes. “Come on.”

I chuckle. “You know I think that’s bullshit.”

She points at me with her palm up. “Right? But, I don’t know… This is something I’ve wanted for a long time.”

The coffee scalds my tongue as I sip it too quickly. “You’ve worked so hard for it,” I say carefully before putting the mug down to cool off more.

She studies me for a moment, then drops her gaze to her tea again before setting it on the counter and folding her hands in front of her. “What would it look like if I declined, if I stayed here? In LA?” she asks quietly.

I wish I could tell my stupid heart to slow the fuck down, but it registers my hope before my brain can catch up.

“Is that something you’d want to do? For real?” Of course we’ve skirted around the idea, but we haven’t seriously talked about it yet. It felt too soon, too new, and I wanted to wait for her.

She shrugs. “Depends.”

“On?”

“If you and your giant biceps can make room for me.”

Using humor to deflect has always been her stalling tactic, but I play along. I grab her suddenly and wrap her up in a tight hug. “Oh, I don’t know,” I say into her hair. “These biceps seem like the perfect fit for you.”

She wraps her arms around my torso and sighs into me, which only further proves my point. “They’re pretty nice,” she admits.

“They are,” I agree. “And I’ll not have you insulting their size again.”

“My mistake. Sorry, Lennon’s biceps.”

We stand there, silently embracing each other in my kitchen while I breathe her in. It’s not lost on me that this is another thing I could have been doing for the last ten years if I hadn’t been too chickenshit to shoot my shot earlier. But she’s here now, and even if I only get to have her for a little while, she’s mine for as long as she’ll let me.

“I don’t want to make this decision,” she says into my chest.

“I don’t envy you,” I say honestly. She bats at my arm with her hand, but I hold her tighter. “I can’t help you with this, Songbird.”

“Why not?” she whines.

I laugh quietly and kiss the top of her head. “You deserve to have everything you want in this new chapter of your life, but only you know what that looks like.”

She’s quiet for a moment before she whispers, “But do you want me here?”

I reach behind me and unclasp her hands so I can hold them between us and properly look at her. The desire to tell her I can’t imagine living another moment without her here with me is so strong, it catches me off guard. But I’ve already committed to making sure she makes this decision on her own, so I simply incline my head slightly.

She presses her lips into a tight line, then nods once in return. “We’d better get going. I can’t have Noah thinking I’m slacking now that he wants to work more with me.”

As much as I want to continue this conversation with a list of pros and cons that are heavily weighted in my favor, she’s not ready. I can see the uncertainty written clearly in the lines of her face and the curve of her spine. So I tuck it away for later, like she has seemed to do as she makes her way back toward her bedroom.

“Five till we leave,” I call to her back.

“Thank you, five,” she tosses over her shoulder with a beautiful, wicked smile.

I bend over and grip the edge of the counter until my knuckles turn white. “Dammit, woman.” I shake my head. “Be careful with that.”

She tips her head back and laughs her musical laugh. “Stop setting me up, then.”

Shaking my head, I eye her from across the apartment. “Never.”

Lark lingers there with her hand on the doorknob of her bedroom as her soft lips stretch into a warm smile.

I don’t know what she’ll decide, but I know that every time we’re apart, the piece of my heart she keeps with her gets bigger and bigger. I worry that eventually, there won’t be any of it left for me.