Chapter Thirty-Three #2
It’s preposterous how right that feels, even though I never believed in such things before.
Not every romantic relationship is so intensely spiritual feeling to the point of transcendence—look at my past relationships.
And yet, to think there might be truth in the idea of a soul-knowing bond…
Mine certainly seems tied to Luke’s, to the point where I don’t know if I could survive being severed from him now that I know what this feels like.
It’s frightening and yet exhilarating at the same time.
As I hold Luke tightly, keeping him as close to me as possible, I feel him release a slight shudder of relief before the tension in his shoulders drops.
He snuggles in closer, finally able to relax within the protection of my arms. As I rub my hand up and down his back, tracing soothing circles along his spine, I listen to the sound of his breathing as it slowly deepens until his soft snores tell me he’s finally fallen asleep.
Only then do I close my eyes and drift off.
Morning comes with the sound of the house waking up around us, the smell of bacon permeating the air. Chatter and laughter are coming from the kitchen, and the noise eventually draws me awake.
I’m immediately aware of Luke’s body intertwined with mine, his head a pleasant weight against my chest. The floor is rock solid beneath my back, but the dull ache is nothing compared to the satisfaction of having him sound asleep in my arms. It sends a rush of euphoria through my brain to find he’s still here, looking so peaceful that I could cry after how tense he was last night.
I would gladly take the hardest surface to sleep on if I could offer that level of serenity for him every night. I would lie like this forever.
A beam of sunlight coming in through the windows catches his golden hair until it shines, and I can’t help but run my fingers through the silken strands like a greedy pirate who’s found some long-lost treasure.
As I feel the way his chest rises and falls beneath my fingers with each serene breath, I recall my staggering revelation from last night.
Soulmates. I still don’t know if such things truly exist, but I wouldn’t mind discovering they do.
Not if it means I get to chase this high for the rest of my life—the tangible rush of energy pulsing through my whole body.
I’m light as a feather, floating on air.
My skin feels electrified, and my chest can barely contain the emotion I feel for this man, the pressure threatening to burst me open and take me under.
There’s no doubt in my mind that I love him.
But then, I’ve known that for a while. I was careening steadily down that path for weeks, worried I was moving too fast or didn’t know what I was thinking.
Now, I can’t help but smile even as tears come to my eyes when I realize that this isn’t a fluke.
I love Luke more than I’ve ever loved another person in my entire life, and even though that thought terrifies me, there’s no fighting it anymore. I’m too far gone.
I’ve never said ‘I love you’ first in a relationship.
In fact, I’ve only ever said it with three girlfriends over the years, and even as I said it back to them, there was always a tiny voice in the back of my mind whispering, “It won’t last.” I should have known then that if I believed that, it probably meant it wouldn’t.
Now I know the difference. Now I understand what it truly feels like to have every waking thought invaded by another person.
To feel the weight of love like a physical pull on my entire body.
There is no more just me. From now on, it will always be us.
It’s a miracle no one has come to check on us yet.
If they had, I’m sure we would have been woken up by startled gasps and demands for answers on why the two of us are sleeping together.
And yet, despite being so open here for the first time since we started dating, it appears we’ve managed to remain hidden. It’s a little ironic, even.
I’m not sure how much longer it would take for someone to find us like this, though, and despite my decision to be less guarded and secretive from now on, I’m still not prepared for a full-on confrontation this early in the morning.
Gently coaxing Luke awake, he blearily rubs the sleep out of his eyes as we sit up.
He leans fairly heavily against my side for a few minutes as he reorients himself with reality, groaning with the dissatisfaction of being awake.
It makes me smile, and I can’t help but tilt his chin to kiss his soft lips until he sighs more dreamily.
With some convincing, he eventually agrees to get up, and we find our way into the kitchen, yawning and desperately needing coffee.
Marcus and Tiff are way too energetic for how early it is, but they’re still in their PJs, which makes me feel a little better about it.
Marcus is wearing plaid flannel pajama pants and a heather gray T-shirt, standing over a hot stove frying bacon, and Tiff’s wearing an oversized T-shirt that hangs just low enough to be considered decent, her hair wrapped in a silk bonnet.
She’s got a pair of thick-frame glasses on, too.
She’s making waffles in a waffle press and scrambling eggs on a griddle.
The two of them work in perfect harmony as they make breakfast, and I can’t help but wonder if this is a normal morning routine for them.
Their youngest son, Darren, is sitting at the end of the counter in one of the tall chairs in his Spider-Man PJs, contentedly eating a waffle with strawberry syrup, but none of the older kids appear to be awake yet.
“Morning, boys!” Tiff gives us a wide grin as we come in. “How’d you sleep?”
“Fine,” I say as we sit at the kitchen island across from her. Luke nods his agreement, but he’s too tired to speak. As if to prove it, he folds his arms on the counter and puts his head down, clearly not ready to be awake.
Tiff laughs. “Yeah, you never were much of a morning person, huh, Luke?”
He grunts by way of answer.
“Food’s coming up, but help yourselves to coffee. Or there’s juice in the fridge if that’s more your speed.”
“You’re gonna make me get it?” Luke whines pathetically into his arms. “What kind of a hostess are you?”
“Bitch, do I look like your mother?” Tiff laughs, giving Luke a stern glare. She gestures to Darren, who is eating his food happily. “I got enough kids without adding you to the mix. You can take care of yourself.”
“You’re too cruel to me.” Luke groans miserably, his head still in his arms. Darren giggles, the happiness of a four-year-old after watching such a brutal takedown permeating the air, and I can’t help but smirk.
“Ethan’ll get it for you. Won’t you, Ethan?” Tiff shoots me a sharp smile, and I sit up a little straighter at the sudden intensity of her gaze as it narrows in a way that’s hard to decipher but seems lethal all the same. “He just loves being helpful.”
At first, I’m confused. But then Marcus turns at the shift in his wife’s tone and gives me a sheepish glance from behind her back before rubbing his fingers together, mouthing the word ‘money’ until it clicks.
She’s chastising me about the $100,000 check I forced Marcus to take yesterday.
I guess that means he finally got around to telling her about it.
Now I’m surprised I wasn’t murdered in my sleep.
I give a guilty little grin, and Tiff arches a brow before shaking the batter-covered spoon in her hand like she wants to smack me with it in reprimand.
She mouths the phrase, ‘I’ll kill you,’ right before Luke lifts his head from the counter, wondering what he’s missing in the awkward silence.
Tiff smiles sweetly at him, but he squints with confusion.
I clear my throat clumsily. “Right. Coffee. I can get that.”
Luke looks genuinely baffled as I get up and walk to the coffee station.
I make us a couple of mugs, but neither Tiff nor I acknowledge the secret conversation.
Darren, on the other hand, repeats his mother’s previously silent phrase very loudly over and over again until Luke looks genuinely concerned for his life from this child.
I can’t help but burst out laughing while Tiff snaps at him to behave.
On my way back by her with the coffee, I stop and give her a quick kiss on the cheek as a peace offering, and she seems to begrudgingly accept it. She shakes her head and rolls her eyes, but smiles and says nothing else as she ushers me back to my seat.
Luke gives me a dubious glare as I hand him his cup, trying to figure out if he should be concerned about whatever he missed before sipping the hot beverage.
Then he hums his approval as he sips it again, apparently happy with my coffee-to-cream-and-sugar ratio.
If anyone else notices that I didn’t need to ask how he takes his coffee, they don’t say anything about it.
A little while later, as we’re eating, I casually reach out and place my hand on Luke’s knee under the counter in a way that’s not obvious but still feels significant as I idly brush my thumb back and forth in a soothing motion.
Luke tilts his head slightly and gives me a sharp look from the corner of his eye, which tells me he’s surprised by the action.
I can tell he’s concerned that it's too risky as he glances at the others.
But he still smiles into his coffee mug, nonetheless, and leans over the counter to reach his free hand to grasp mine just as stealthily.
The way he gently squeezes my fingers is freeing. Cathartic.
It might not be an earth-shattering declaration, but it's a monumental step in the right direction for me—one I could never have accomplished without Luke’s unwavering patience and compassion. Seeing the quiet appreciation in Luke’s eyes makes all the struggle to get here worth it.