Chapter Nineteen
Reid
“I’m ready to go.” I wasn’t even pretending to be subtle.
We’d danced, eaten our dried-out chicken, and even waited for the cake—carrot cake, at that. Who does that? I was ready to go home. Not home home, but someplace to be alone with Kayson. I had to leave at three a.m. to catch my flight and needed at least four hours sleep to not fall into a drowsy coma, so in my estimation we had about three hours left, and that just wasn’t even close to enough.
Days wouldn’t have been enough.
Was I ready to pack up and move to Mapleville? As I sat beside him, enveloped in his scent—absolutely, but no decision like that should be made in a lust-filled haze or even in the dawn of a new relationship. The last thing I wanted was to rush things to the point of destroying them.
Except, with Kayson, it didn’t feel like rushing, it felt like progressing the way we should, and as much as that should freak me out, it didn’t. It made me feel better about the whole thing. Why couldn’t Kayson live locally so we could just go with the flow instead of this inadvertent speed courting we seemed to have embarked on.
“Me, too.” Kayson stood, holding his hand out for me. He was every bit as ready to be done with the wedding festivities as I was. Thank freaking goodness.
We quickly agreed the hotel was our best option since I needed to leave stupid early. It wasn’t the cozy abode Kayson called his own, but it would do. In my gut, I knew we needed to talk, but talking was the last thing on my mind. I wanted to make love to him all night long, or for the few hours we had before sleep became a necessity.
We were back at the hotel and in my room within ten minutes. That was the bonus of a town as small as Mapleville. Everything was close together, in town, anyway. The rest of the residents were scattered in the rural beauty that was the region.
“I have wanted to get you alone all night.” Kayson ran his finger down the side of my neck.
“And I, you.” I kissed him soundly before leaning my head on his chest.
“We need to talk.”
Normally, when I heard those words, it was craptastic news. Being dumped, someone having the C word, or a client going under. It never meant I won the lottery or let’s buy an island. But, as Kayson said the words, I didn’t feel trepidation. I felt hope.
“I know,” I agreed, taking a step back, knowing if I didn’t get the business part of things done before we talked, I was going to end up standing in section Z, hoping for a seat not next to the toilet. “Let me check into my flight first, and we can go from there.”
I turned on my phone as I spoke, and it was on only a few seconds when the notifications began to explode. None from the ex, as I now called him because his name gave me the heebie-jeebies after the stunt he pulled, but clients, the weather, and the leasing company.
I opened it up, and my mouth fell open. What should’ve been good news felt remarkably not.
“What?” Kayson’s arm wrapped around me, his worry obvious.
“It looks like I have my apartment still. The new people failed the credit check.” Why didn’t that sound happier coming from my mouth. Kayson. Kayson was why.
“Are you going to take it?” His voice was too calm, too even, too ambivalent. He sounded so un-Kayson. Was he feeling the same as I? He’d never hid his growing affection for me, but that wasn’t the same as let’s get married and have all the babies.
“I kind of should? I think?”
Dread. The thought of re-signing filled me with dread.
“It is pragmatic.”
“Yet, you sound like I kicked your puppy.” As did I. A couple of days earlier, this would’ve been the best news ever. Coming on Valentine’s Day, it felt like Cupid pulling the arrow out and saying, just kidding.
“Because I want you here.” He turned my face toward him with a tap of his finger on my chin. His eyes told the truth of his words even if I couldn’t hear and feel his sincerity as he spoke them. “I know it is too soon, and asking you to move here is freaking crazy at best, but there it is.”
“It is crazy. I was considering it, though. When I thought I had to move.” And still. But, now, it felt rushed, or maybe not. I didn’t even know. There were too many emotions, and his scent, and the feel of his body touching mine. Nothing was making sense.
“And, now?” His voice quivered. The last thing I wanted was to hear him that way, not when I knew I was the cause.
“And now I’m thinking I need to not rush decisions.”
“So it’s not a no.”
“It’s not a no,” I said adamantly. It was far from a no. I needed to get my shit together. If I didn’t manage to do that first, I wasn’t worthy of him. And we both needed to be beyond sure. We were caught up in the moment, the fabulous, amazing, how-is-this-my-life moment, but life is made up of many moments. “The new lease is month to month.”
“So we aren’t goodbye.”
“No. Not goodbye.” I kissed away a tear that had escaped his eye. “This is good, though.”
“How so?”
“It means if I move here, it is because we want this and there will never be that little doubt that I came because I needed a place.” My words were true except the “good”—nothing about this felt good.
“True. I can still pout, though.” He half smiled.
“You can try, but if you do, I’m going to have to kiss it off your face.” Not that he was going to be able to keep his lips off me for very long. If these few hours were all we had until who knew when, I was going to savor every second of them.
“I think I’d better pout a lot, then.”
“Sounds like a plan to me.”