Chapter 22
Dmitri
Ever unlocks the front door of his house and I follow him in. He flips on the lights and we drop our bags at the entrance. In my pocket, my phone is two tons, weighing me down with the email I received before we left this morning.
The job offer for concertmaster was waiting for me when I woke, but I haven’t told Ever yet.
I needed time to process the offer and think about what I want the second half of my life to look like.
What’s important to me, and what my priorities are.
And a flight across the ocean gave me the time to do that.
Ever heads to the kitchen. “Want something to drink?”
“Water, please. No matter how much I drink, I always feel so dehydrated after a long flight.” I twist to one side, then the other, my spine popping, releasing some of the tension from traveling all day. “God, it’s good to be home.”
Ever’s gaze slow, slow, slo-o-o-wly rises from the glasses he’s filling and he stares at me.
Shit.
Sure, we’ve said the big L-word, and yeah, I talked about staying in Maplewood. But referring to Ever’s place as home has major implications. And I’m not sure either of us is ready to address them.
But for him blinking, his expression remains blank.
The back of my neck heats to boiling, and I lick my dry lips. I could really use that water right now, if for no other reason than to pour it over my head to cool me down, but I’m afraid to move. “I didn’t mea—”
“Don’t finish that sentence.” He’s coming at me, strides long and sure, and before I know what’s going on, his mouth captures mine, hijacking all thought.
There is only the slide of his tongue, the scratch of his stubble, the heat of his breath, his taste, his feel.
With every lick and nip, he devours me. The world tips and spins like a carnival tilt-a-wheel ride and all I can do is hold on, which I do, fisting his shirt.
There is no one I trust more than this man.
When he finally ends the kiss, I’m breathless and stars blur my vision.
He presses his forehead to mine, his lips wet and swollen.
“I’ve been terrified that you’ll get tired of Maplewood, of me, and leave.
That you’ll wake up one day and wonder what the hell you’re doing in this tiny town in Vermont.
That you’ll move to London and forget about Maplewood, me, us. ”
“I could never.” I rub my hand up his neck to the back of his head, holding him there, so he knows just how serious I am. “But I think if we’re going to make this work, I need to know why you’re so afraid.”
“I’m not—” He stops, a faraway, somewhat startled look in his eye.
I take his hand, leading him to the couch and pull him down with me, so I’m so close, I might as well be sitting on his lap.
This is probably something we should have already discussed, but considering we’ve known each other for such a short time, it’s not surprising we haven’t.
“We’ve talked about my baggage, but what about yours? ”
“Who says I have baggage?” He thwacks my thigh with his finger, but beneath his teasing, there’s an undercurrent of cautiousness.
I shift so I’m facing him and take his hand. “A forty-one-year-old, talented, single business owner, who also happens to be sexy as hell, with no recent relationships and has a no hookups with tourists policy? Oh baby, you have baggage.”
He drops his head back on a laugh-groan. “Who told you about my no hookup policy?” He lifts his head. “It was Trevor, wasn’t it?”
“Do you really think your best friend would spill your secrets?” I put on an affronted air on behalf of Trevor, which only makes Ever’s smile grow wider, and my insides turn hot and gooey.
“It was Jo,” he guesses.
I bring his hand to my chest and hold it there. “Or Asa.” But as soon as I say it, I hurry to clarify because the last thing I want to do is throw the sweetly intimidating woman under the bus. “But don’t think she was gossiping. She wasn’t.”
His gaze grows warmer, if that’s possible, and my gooey insides turn to sugary syrup.
“Thank you for looking out for her.” He flattens his hand so his palm presses against my chest, and I’m sure he can feel every one of my heartbeats.
“About five years ago, I fooled around with a tourist. It didn’t end well.
I thought it was clear we were messing around for the week, and he thought it was more permanent.
Several bogus bad reviews, interfering with venders, and a social media campaign that wasn’t in my favor later, I almost lost the shop. ”
My blood flares to sizzling. How dare someone try to ruin another person’s career? My indignation on his part must show because he smooths tiny circles on my chest with his forefinger. “I suppose that makes what we have even more remarkable.”
“It does.” He loops my legs so they’re resting over his thighs. “But that’s not where the fear of being left comes from.”
I shake my head, but remain silent.
As if it provides him comfort, he rubs his big hand over my legs.
“I didn’t realize I’ve been carrying this around until you said something.
” He exhales a heavy breath. “I dated an oboe player after college. We moved in together, and a couple of years later, he got a job with the Kansas City Symphony, and that was that.” His fingers tighten then flex and he stares into space for a moment before turning vulnerable blue eyes my way. “I guess I internalized that, huh?”
“It explains London, and why me telling you I love you wasn’t enough.” I go for lighthearted because, god knows, I get how damaging a breakup can be.
“Love isn’t always enough.” I open my mouth to protest, but he keeps going, “But if you think of Maplewood as home…” His voice cracks and he shakes his head.
Needing him to understand exactly how serious I am about him and us, I shift until I’m sitting on his lap with my legs on either side of him.
I take his face in my hands, placing a kiss on the divot I can’t get enough of.
“It’s not just Maplewood. This house and its history and everyone in this welcoming little town have, in a short time, become more a part of me than Houston, Philly, or anywhere I’ve lived.
But when I think of home, it’s you I think of.
I don’t know how or exactly when it happened, but you are my home. ”
“I love you so fucking much.” Face pressed into my chest, he encircles his arms around my middle like a vise, holding me to him, and I hear the unspoken question.
How do we make this work if I move to London?
Might as will get to it now because we have a lot to work out. “I got the job.”
He lifts his head, spearing me with those gorgeous sea glass eyes and beams at me. “I knew you’d get it.” His pride and happiness for my accomplishment outshine the underlying sadness he’s unable to hide. “When do you have to be over there?”
“I’m not going.”
“What?” He straightens and I move with him. “What do you mean, you’re not going?”
I hold his gaze, so he can see mine is steady, sure, and clear. “I’m not going to accept the position.”
“But—”
I put my finger to his mouth, shushing him.
“I know you think I won’t be professionally satisfied here, but it’s the opposite.
Most of my career has been performing in orchestras.
If I go to London, what am I doing but the same thing I’ve been doing for the last two decades, just in a different city?
But if I stay, I can build something new, something exciting.
Rio has some other projects he asked me to work on.
I can build up the number of students I teach.
And I want to help build a youth orchestra.
I want to see it through to completion. And I want to make music with you and help you with your bees.
I want to go to all the festivals and I want to see Mabel again.
But most of all, I want to build a life with you. ”
“Wow. That’s a lot.” His mouth works open, then closes and his hands tighten on my waist. There’s a sheen in his eyes and I see myself reflected in them.
“Too much?” I twist my bottom lip between my teeth.
His smile quivers as it grows. “Not at all. I guess that means I don’t have to wait to ask you to move in with me?” He holds his hands up. “No pressure. And if you want to wait, I’m totally fine with that, but I figured, we’ve basically been living with each other already, so…”
“Yes.” I crash my mouth to his. The laughter vibrating against my lips morphs into a low moan as we put a seal on this new relationship.
When I pull away, the slightly glassy, slightly wild look in his gaze enthralls and destroys.
“I have plans for you, Mr. King.” I wiggle my eyebrows and he laughs.
“But first, let me email Caroline and let her know that I won’t be able to accept the position. ” I pull out my phone and start typing.
“What are you going to say?” He locks his fingers behind my back, holding me in place.
I look up from my screen into the eyes of this man, who helped me find my passion, my creativity, and a new perspective on life. For the first time in forever, my chest feels light. The heaviness that has resided in it most of my adult life is gone. “The truth. That I got a better offer.”
I can’t wait to see what our shared future holds for us, because I know whatever happens, it will be full of music and love. And bees too.