Chapter 23
We traveled down the drive until I eventually parked behind the Explorer, killed the engine, and sat there with my hands on the wheel, marveling at how close I’d been this whole time.
Beth and Cyrus exited their car first. I watched them confer at the back bumper, Beth’s hands busy on her phone while Cyrus made a pantomime of stretching his arms and then, for good measure, rolling his neck. I recalled this about him. Everything he did was big and dramatic.
I forced myself out of the Malibu, nervous excitement a heavy bundle in my abdomen.
Cyrus did an extravagant, double-handed, then called out, “Come on now, don’t be shy. How about this? I’ll announce you. I’ll even make it sound like a professional wrestling match.”
Beth shot him a look. “You really need to be nicer to Alaric,” she said. “He’s so nice to you.”
Cyrus stalked toward the porch, stopping every few feet to turn and wave me forward with a theatrical, but wordless, “after you, milady” gesture.
I glanced down at myself, realized my hands were shaking, and told them to knock it off.
He’d said he wanted to choose me. I was here to choose him. All will be well.
Cyrus, several paces ahead, pivoted on his heel and said, “This might be the best Christmas present anyone has every given me.”
I narrowed my eyes at him. “I promise I am really not here to hurt Alaric or otherwise exact revenge on him.”
He held up his hands, palms out. “I believe you. By the way, thank you for not telling us your plans so that we can still have plausible deniability.”
Despite myself, I laughed, and the laugh came out easier than I’d expected.
The three of us convened at the front door. Shaking out my hands, I reached for the doorbell, but Cyrus stopped me.
Laying his hand over mine, he leaned in and used a stage whisper. “How about we all go in together, all at the same time. It might be fun to see if we can fit inside the doorway like that.”
Beth sorta smirked and I noted that she hadn’t said no.
But she did ball her hand into a fist and rap smartly on the wood, three sharp knocks.
The sound echoed into the house, and my heart jumped into my throat.
For a long, awful second, nothing happened.
I could see my own breath fogging in the cold.
Then, from inside, a voice I recognized as Alaric’s called out, “Door is unlocked, Cyrus. Come on in.”
Cyrus grinned, turned the handle, and with a flourish, gestured that Beth and I should walk in first. “Guests of honor,” he announced.
I stepped inside, Beth at my shoulder, Cyrus close behind.
Cyrus closed the door behind us, then cupped his hands to his mouth and bellowed, “Come out, come out, wherever you are!” Then, in a singsong, “We have a surprise for you!”
Okay. Oh God. This is happening.
There was a shuffle from the back hallway, then Alaric’s voice, calm and measured preceded him. “What is it? Please don’t say you want me to look over your tax return again. Because—”
He stopped as soon as he saw me. I stopped too.
I’d expected… I don’t know what I’d expected. But Alaric just stood there, wearing a black henley, blue jeans, and bare feet. His hair was still damp from a shower. For a second, I couldn’t move or speak, so I held my breath, my heart banging in my chest.
He stared at me, and I stared back.
Cyrus looked between us, grinning. In my peripheral vision I saw his grin wane. Then his shoulders slump.
Finally, he let out a loud sigh and said, “Well, this is disappointing. I was promised a thriller and we’ve been given a romance.”
“What’s wrong with romance?” Beth asked sweetly.
“I have nothing against the genre, you know I love romance, Darling. But it’s the bait and switch with my expectations that bothers me. Alaric is always toying with my emotions.” Cyrus’s tone was just as sweet as Beth’s and sounded entirely sincere.
But I was still focused on Alaric, who hadn’t moved, nor had his face had softened.
I should say something, right? I should say, “I choose you!!” Except, that made it sound like he was a Pokémon.
Then, at last, he walked closer, slow and deliberate, his eyes never leaving mine. I felt my legs go weak, but I managed to stay upright. I told myself to be brave, that he wanted me here, that there was no scenario where this ended with police tape or a broken heart for either of us.
I think Beth said something like, “Come on. Let's give them some privacy.” I think I heard Cyrus grumble, “Fine. But we’ll be back for dinner! You better not be naked unless we’re all naked.” And then the door closed behind them. And it was just the two of us. With all the time in the world.
But apparently noy the oxygen because I was breathing heavy, unable to fill my lungs.
I had no idea why this moment was so hard and felt so momentous.
Perhaps because this was the last time I would ever choose someone in this way?
Of that, I felt certain. It was him or no one.
I wasn’t being greedy or stingy. He was just that amazing.
Alaric smiled. It looked like a confession. “Hello, Alison Weston.”
I managed to find my voice, though it came out barely more than a whisper. “Hello, Alaric Jordan.”
He bit his lip, his expression a little shy but mostly hopeful. One hundred percent adorable. “I missed you.”
It was stupid, how much those three words unraveled me. “I missed you too.”
He stepped closer, so close I could smell the soap on his skin.
Unable to help myself, I closed the gap further, just an inch. “Admittedly, I’m not used to being missed, but I want to become a person who is missed by others.”
He shook his head. “I don’t think you give yourself enough credit.”
This wasn’t the speech I’d rehearsed for this moment, I hardly knew what I was saying, but I needed him to know, “I want to be deserving of friends and found-family and my own family and maybe even a knitting circle.”
He laughed, a soft huff of breath that warmed the air between us.
“And I want to be deserving of you.” My chin wobbled, my voice cracked. I was probably going to cry again, but I wanted to be with him so badly. I wanted him to be the first and founding new member of my community.
Then, as if some invisible tether finally snapped, Alaric closed the rest of the distance, wrapped his arms around me, and kissed me.
It wasn’t like the last time, in the shed.
There was no urgency, no desperation. It was a slow, savoring press of lips and the grounding, solid reality of his hands on my waist. I kissed him back, arms winding around his neck, pulling him closer.
Maybe he wasn’t in a hurry, but I needed to be so much closer.
He picked me up—literally just lifted me off the ground—and I wrapped my legs around his hips, and he walked us over to the kitchen island. Setting me on top of it, we kissed and kissed. We kissed until I forgot my own name, until I was laughing and gasping and trying not to cry all at once.
When he finally pulled away, just an inch, his mouth was red, his hair mussed, and his eyes held something new. Want, yes, but also awe. And relief.
Lowering his head, he nuzzled my neck, lips brushing the skin just below my ear, making me shiver.
“I want you,” he said, and he didn’t have to explain how, exactly, he wanted me.
“Should we do this now?” Were we rushing things? “Shouldn’t we talk some more?”
He shook his head. “I think we’re done talking.”
“But—” I started.
He stopped me with a kiss. “Just give me this one small thing.”
“What small thing?” I asked, voice gone shaky.
He smiled against my jaw. “Allow me to show you.”