Chapter 36
THIRTY-SIX
I dip my head, kissing June, and when she returns it, relief moves through me.
Tonight could have gone so, so badly. Terribly even.
But somehow, she understands.
Somehow, I think she’s going to forgive me.
I press her back to the door, and her hands begin to shift, tugging at my shirt, moving up under it, kissing me with the same need that’s been simmering under my skin.
It’s part liquor and part relief and part pure endorphins that have both of us going crazy, I’m sure, but I don’t inspect any of it too closely.
My hand moves down her ass, gripping each cheek hard and pulling her into me, making her moan into my mouth.
In her heels, she’s a bit taller, easier to kiss, making me think about turning her around, hiking that tiny skirt up to her waist, and sinking in deep.
Who needs a bed or even a couch? The entryway will do just fine.
But then I remember the plan.
The clock in the small kitchen reads 12:14, and I remember I have a plan. So instead of fucking her like I want, I begrudgingly and with a bit of pain, pull away.
“Get your pajamas, I have a surprise for you,” I murmur, smiling at the pouty look on her face.
“Is it your dick?” she asks, and I let out a laugh, something I do a lot more often with June in my life.
“Because that’s what I really want right now.
” I hesitate for one long moment, contemplating throwing the plan aside, but my woman loves whimsy and magic, and I’ll be damned if I don’t give it to her on her most magical day of the year.
“Not yet,” I say with a laugh, stepping further away to maintain my defenses.
“But it’s my birthday,” she whines.
“I know, lady luck. Now go get some comfies on. Wash your face. Give me…” I think, unsure before committing to a time. “Five minutes.”
“Graham—” I pull her into me, pressing my lips to hers quickly to cut off her protest before stepping away again.
“June, please.”
She grimaces, but must see something on my face, because she sighs and nods, then shuffles off to the bedroom, kicking off her heels as she goes.
Once the bedroom door clicks closed behind her, I move with a mission.
Quickly and quietly, I head for the kitchen and smile at the small heart-shaped cake in the fridge the hotel staff delivered while we were out.
On the counter are matches, and I dig into the cabinet, pulling out the candles I brought.
Three twisty rainbow ones, as bright and sunshiney as the birthday girl herself, as well as a glittering number 2 and 7.
Pressing them into the cake, I grab it and move through the hotel room to the large coffee table, one of the main reasons I actually upgraded to this room, and set it on the center.
I sit on one side of the coffee table awkwardly before calling her in.
“You can come in, June,” I say. Instantly, I hear her bare feet padding on the floor, eager to see her surprise as I begin lighting the candles.
I’m just finishing lighting the 7 when she stops in the doorway, eyes wide.
I smile, warmth spreading through my chest at the look on her face.
She’s wearing a tiny light blue tank top with matching shorts, delicate lace along the edges, a sliver of her belly revealed, no bra, her hair up in a messy bun atop her head, and somehow, in the five minutes I was in here, she washed her face clean of makeup.
She’s never looked more beautiful.
She’s never looked more like June, my June.
“Happy birthday, lady luck,” I murmur when she stays quiet.
“Come, sit.” I tip my chin to the other side of the low coffee table.
Apprehensively, she moves into the living area, her eyes shifting from me to the cake, awe and shock written clear across her face.
Somehow, it’s even better than the excited face she gets when something lucky happens, which is a relief since I think I’ll want to put this one on her face even more.
“Graham,” she says, shaking her head. “My birthday is tomorrow.” I smile.
“It’s after midnight. It’s your birthday.” Her eyes go wide. “Sit.”
“On the coffee table?” she asks, confused when I nod, but does as I ask all the same.
“Isn’t that how it goes?”
There’s a moment before her face goes soft, those brimming tears returning to her blue eyes, making them shine brighter.
“Are you Sixteen Candles-ing me?” she asks through a small laugh. I just smile at her, gesturing to the cake and shrugging.
“It’s your favorite movie.”
“What did I do to deserve you, Graham Hawthorne?” she asks.
“Maybe you’re just lucky.”
She lets out a loud, cheer-filled laugh before looking at the cake.
“Must be.”
“Make a wish, June,” I say, watching the wax start to pool as it drips down.
“I can’t believe you did all of this just for my birthday.”
“I might play with fate a bit, but I promise I’ll never forget your birthday.
” One of those tears drips, rolling down her cheek.
“Blow out the candles, June. Make a wish,” I whisper.
More tears fall, and I reach over to brush one away, streaking the wet across the apple of her cheek.
She gives me a watery smile before laughing and shaking her head. My brows furrow. “What’s wrong?”
“I don’t know what to wish for.” She lets out a small, disbelieving laugh. “I have everything I ever wanted. I’m the luckiest girl in the world.”
And for a moment, nothing else matters. Nothing but June and her sweet smile, her hair pulled into a messy knot on top of her head, the candles burning beneath her, the glow lighting up the angles of her face.
So at ease, so content, so… everything. And I know she means it: she feels lucky, because she has everything.
It has nothing to do with career, money, or things.
Instead, it has everything to do with me, her friends, and her family.
With her town and that settled feeling I too now feel when I’m there, when I’m home.
“I love you, June,” I say low. She asked me once if I’ve ever been in love, and the answer was no, not that I told her at the time.
I’ve never said that to a woman, never been close enough to make it something that even crossed my mind, but I’ve been biting my tongue for weeks now, trying to find the right time to confess this secret to June in a way she would find special and magical and whimsical.
I don’t know if blurting it out while confessing all of the white lies I’ve told her over the past few months is the most romantic, but when her eyes soften, her hand covers mine, and she speaks, I know it’s going to work out in the end.
“I love you too, Graham.” I smile then, leaning in and pressing my lips to her softly before pulling back. “Best birthday ever,” she says low, then finally pulls back and blows out the candles.