Chapter 21
CHAPTER
TWENTY-ONE
Mira
We broke two.
“Want another bite?” Hartley asks, holding a forkful of wedding cake to my lips.
I open my mouth and let him place the bite on my tongue.
The cake is surprisingly good. It’s probably four generous servings, but between the two of us, we’ve nearly eaten every bite. I guess a round of sex before our bath, and another one after, really gave us an appetite.
“What time is it?” I ask, yawning.
Hartley grabs his phone off the bedside table. “Four thirty.” He falls back against the pillows again. “I’m usually waking up at four thirty.”
I laugh. “Look at you, living on the wild side.”
“Last bite,” he says, yawning, too.
“Can’t. I’m literally ready to pop.”
He shoves the last bite into his mouth and sets the plate and fork next to the lamp. He shuts off the light, then scoots down under the covers. I move with him, without realizing it, and find myself curled up against him.
Once I realize what’s happening, it’s too late to pull away … if I wanted to. Which I don’t.
His right arm is tucked under my head, his fingers playing in my hair. It’s soothing. My eyes grow heavy as I breathe Hartley in and relax.
“Do you remember the summer I learned to braid your hair?” he asks softly.
I smile. “Of course. That was the summer we spent trying to create trails through the woods like we were Lewis and Clark or something.”
He laughs.
“I remember the look on your face when you told me I needed to start wearing a hat because you kept having to stop to pick pieces of branches out of my hair,” I say, replaying the memory.
“And you refused, naturally.”
“I don’t look good in hats,” I say, shrugging. “But I will say, you did pick up the braiding thing fast. You’re a natural.”
His chest rises and falls as he chuckles.
We lie in the quiet, the only sound Hartley’s steady heartbeat against my ear, and the only movement his fingers brushing through my hair.
Everything in my life is chaos right now. None of it was planned. And while I’m someone who likes adventure in her life, getting married and moving back to my hometown are pretty huge, unplanned events.
So, why am I not that worried about it?
It’s a slightly concerning question all on its own, though, and I’m not sure what that says about me.
“Can I ask you something?” I ask, drawing a circle around his tattoo.
“Sure.”
“Have you really not been with anyone since we were last together?”
He kisses the top of my head. “Nope.”
“I guess my real question is how is that possible?” I laugh softly. “You’re the catch of the century.”
“Lucky you, I guess.” He pulls me closer. “You haven’t been with anyone either?”
“Nope. And I’ll tell you how that’s possible since you clearly don’t know how to answer that question.” I smile against him. “I never found anyone interesting enough. I went on a couple of dates, but it just never felt right.”
“Does this feel right?”
His heartbeat quickens beneath my cheek, and his hand slows in my hair. I hear the hope in his voice. If I ever suspected such a thing before, it would set my feet on fire, and I’d leave at the next available opportunity. Sticking around meant opening yourself up to pain.
The memories. Other people’s expectations. Knowing someone long enough to give them access to my heart.
I can’t lose anyone else.
But for the first time ever, the idea of hanging around doesn’t seem so bad. Actually, the thought of staying in Kentucky tomorrow and sending Hartley back to Sugar Creek brings tears to my eyes. Not just because I’d miss him, but because I know it would hurt his heart.
“This feels right. At least for right now,” I say quietly.
His shoulders sag in the most minuscule way, but I notice. I hold my breath, worried that I’ve upset him or have changed the vibe between us.
He kisses the top of my head. “Right now works for me.”
In typical Hartley fashion, his words are simple and to the point. He’s not frustrated by my candor. There’s no demand for me to give more than I’m able to give. He’s … Hartley. The best kind of man.
I hold him tighter, pressing my lips against his sternum.
“Besides,” he says, “I’ve waited a long damn time for right now.”
On the surface, it’s a statement. In reality, it’s a confession. He’s confirming my earlier suspicions.
He has been waiting for me.
The realization steals my breath as I try to come to terms with it, the truth of his words wrapping around my heart, squeezing gently.
Despite my wounds and flaws, Hartley loves me. Even though I walked away from him with the excuse of wanting something more than this small town, he continued to love me. He saw me. He gave me space.
He gave me his heart years ago, and I’ve been too scared to accept it.
“You make that man complete. When you’re not around, he can barely hear your name without walking out of the room. It’s as if it hurts him too much not having you there that he can’t sit still.”
Tears fog my eyes, and I sniffle them back softly.
I’d thought she’d been talking about him years ago, but she was talking about now, too.
And all along, as I sat in whatever apartment I was renting in whatever city I was living in, I was thinking about him, too.
Turning men down because they weren’t him.
Asking my sister for information as subtly as I can because God forbid Hartley have social media.
And that tattoo …
My bottom lip trembles.
I love you, Hart.
I tuck myself closer to him, my hand flattening over his heart. I wish I could tell him my thoughts and explain how much he means to me. But I’m only decent with words when I’m breaking people up or helping them quit a job in writing.
That probably says something about me.
“Hart?”
He hums a response.
“I think I’ve waited a long damn time for right now, too,” I whisper.
He presses a kiss, then another, to the top of my head. “Get some sleep.”
I close my eyes as something warm and terrifying blooms in my chest, wondering if the most dangerous thing about Hartley Adler isn’t that I love him. It’s that I could have this. Every day. And it’s how I’m already starting to imagine that twelve months with him won’t be enough.