Chapter Twenty-Eight
Hayden
I Melt With You
Modern English
The kiss outside her apartment lasts exactly three seconds, and not because I want it to be quick. But because I don’t trust myself not to ruin everything if it lasts longer.
Vanessa’s gloved fingers curl into the front of my coat while snow drifts around us beneath the streetlights, her mouth warm and familiar and dangerous against mine.
Every instinct I have wants to follow her upstairs, pin her against the inside of her apartment door and then lose entire days inside her bed until this ache between us disappears. But that’s the problem, isn’t it? I’ve spent months loving her in private.
So, when I pull back, it’s deliberate and careful. Her eyes search mine, and for one terrible second I wonder if she thinks I’m rejecting her. Christ, all this second guessing is exhausting.
“I want nothing more than to take you upstairs,” I murmur, brushing my thumb once across her cheek. “but, I don’t want to rush this. I don’t want to confuse things.”
Something vulnerable flickers across her face then. It’s not quite sadness. I realize it’s hope, and that eases something in my chest. Hope is a good thing. It means she wants this as much as I do.
“Goodnight, Nessa.”
“Goodnight, Hayden.”
I force myself to step away first and it is, without a doubt, the hardest fucking thing I’ve done all week. The next morning, I stare at my phone for a solid five minutes before finally getting up the nerve to text her.
Good morning.
Three dots appear within seconds.
Good morning
Relief hits embarrassingly hard as a rush of air leaves my lungs. I lean back against my kitchen counter, coffee warming my hands while snow falls beyond the windows overlooking the lake.
Any interest in helping me Christmas shop today?
A pause. Then bubbles.
That depends. Are you one of the impossible people to shop with?
I have to buy gifts for the guys, their girls, and now Larkin too, and I’m told “cash” is frowned upon.
Her laugh practically echoes through the phone.
Oh no. You’re one of those men.
I don’t know what that means.
Yes you do.
Another pause.
Pick me up at noon.
And just like that, my entire chest feels lighter for the first time in days.
Christmas shopping with Vanessa turns out to be both fun and vaguely humiliating. Mostly because she discovers almost immediately that I have no idea how normal people buy gifts.
“You cannot buy Dean a six-hundred-dollar espresso machine.”
“Why not?”
“Because then everyone else is made to feel their gifts are inadequate.”
“I fail to see the issue.”
Vanessa laughs in disbelief beneath the giant Christmas tree inside the crowded downtown shopping center, cheeks pink from the cold while she reaches for a sweater folded on a display table. The sound still does something catastrophic to my insides.
And Christ. This is what she meant when she said no hidden rooms. She just wants to live a normal life, in crowded stores, our cold hands tangled together as we argue over whether Mikey would wear a beanie with tiny skulls on it.
Normal. The realization sits peacefully in my chest the entire afternoon. Vanessa notices everything. I can tell by the way her expression softens each time I include her in decisions, ask her opinion, and tell her stories about the band. It’s not performative either. It’s easy and open.
By the time I drop her back at her apartment later that evening, something between us feels steadier. It’s still fragile, but I can tell we’re healing.
Monday is quieter. I make an effort to still give her space, but we text throughout the day.
She sends me a funny photo of Vinny, and complains about a donor that pulled out at the museum for a piece she was looking forward to restoring.
I text her a picture of Dean asleep in the studio captioned, “creative genius at work”, and send her a clip of the song we’re working on.
There’s no pressure, no pushing. We’re just present for each other, and somehow that feels even more intimate than before.
Tuesday almost kills me. I haven’t seen her in forty-eight hours and I miss her. By the time I pull up outside the museum after work, I’ve spent the entire day trying too hard not to overthink if being here is okay.
Then she steps outside, and it’s like nothing else exists.
Her hair falls loose around her shoulders tonight, her breaths leaving her in white cloudy puffs from the cold, while she tugs gloves onto her hands before spotting me leaning against my Audi.
And smiles. And damn, that smile could resurrect the dead.
I push off the car before she reaches me, unable to wait to close the distance between us.
“Hey you.” Her smile growing brighter. “This is a nice surprise.”
“I missed you.” Why not just tell her why I’m here? I don’t want there to be any doubt from her about how I’m feeling. And this time, it’s less awkward, less uncertain as I lean forward to kiss her.
“You want to get some dinner?” I ask while opening her door.
She hesitates for just a moment before looking up at me. “Actually,” her fingers tighten around the strap of her bag. “Do you just want to come to my place?”
The invitation takes me off guard, my brow shooting up as I lock my gaze with hers. I realize she’s choosing me again and a warmth floods through me I wasn’t expecting.
“I’d like that.”
An hour later, Vanessa stands barefoot in her kitchen stirring pasta while Vinny circles my legs demanding attention. The apartment smells like garlic and wine and it feels like coming home.
And maybe it’s exhaustion, maybe it’s relief, or maybe it’s the fact that I haven’t slept through the night in over a week, but for the first time since she left my apartment that morning, I feel myself relax.
Vanessa glances over her shoulder while pouring wine into two glasses. “You’re very quiet over there.”
“I’m okay. Just tired.”
Concern flickers across her face. “Are you sleeping at all?”
“A little, but mostly not.” How do I explain to her that a part of me feels like it’s missing when she’s not in my bed.
Dinner happens slow and comfortable after that. The conversation is easy and we share careful touches across the table. Vinny steals chicken off my plate like a tiny criminal, and it only makes me love him more.
And somewhere around nine-thirty, when Vanessa disappears down the hall to switch laundry, I fall asleep on her couch.
The next thing I register is warmth brushing carefully through my hair.
I blink slowly awake to dim apartment lighting with Vanessa curled beside me beneath a blanket, one hand resting against my chest.
“Sorry,” I murmur, moving to sit up. “I didn’t mean to?—”
“Hey.” Her fingers glide up into my hair again. “It’s okay.”
I stare at her for another long second. “You should’ve woken me.”
“You looked like you finally stopped fighting yourself for five minutes.” The words hit harder than they probably should. Emotion lodges thick in my throat, because I know she’s right. Vanessa watches me in silence as she continues to stroke her fingers through my hair.
“Luc and Lily are doing brunch Saturday.” I say the words without thought.
“Okay.” A tiny smile touches her mouth.
“I thought maybe we could go together.”
“I would love that, Hayden.” Her body snuggling closer to mine as she replies.
And just like that, I realize opening doors is so much easier than I thought, especially when I know I’m going to walk through them with her.