Chapter 16 #2
“I don’t want what I have to say to feel like I’m justifying anything,” I say. “I don’t want you to feel like… I just don’t want it to change what we have now, Lana, because I love this. I love you and you have always been here.”
“So you do want to tell me,” she breathes, almost as a realization with tears gathering in her eyes.
“Of course, I do.” I pull her to the edge by her thighs, my body presses into hers. “I want to tell you everything, I just… I still feel ashamed about it sometimes. There are things I’d rather forget. Things I don’t want you to know.”
Lana frowns, her hands holding onto my wrists. “Will they hurt me?”
“I… I don’t know.”
“So maybe,” Lana says. “Was there—”
I shake my head. “Please, baby,” I whisper. “Not tonight, please. I just need this with you.”
“What do you need from me tonight, Christian?” Lana asks softly. “How do you need to be loved tonight?”
I kiss her cheek. “Just let me hold you while we watch something.”
“The Office? New Girl? Or Brooklyn 99?”
I chuckle. “I’m fine with either one.”
“Then let’s finish cleaning and shower,” she says. “And we’ll sit on the couch.”
“Okay.”
It’s three in the morning when I wake up to a loud noise from the TV. One of our favorite sitcoms is still playing and Lana is on my chest, dead asleep, as I lie back.
I reach for the remote, careful not to wake her up, and turn off the TV. As much as I want to take her to bed and hold her every night, I’m the one who made the rule.
Lana doesn’t know about the rehab and the night that put me in there.
She doesn’t know—if I were being honest with myself— that if I hadn’t almost died, I might not have gotten treatment in the first place.
If I hadn’t needed to be basically resurrected, I might have stayed right where I was, in the most unhealthy place of my life.
I might have died that night, I’m still not entirely sure.
But what I saw wasn’t the light or my life flashing before my eyes, I saw a dream.
I dreamed of our life together in the future—an extravagant house, her as my wife, and two daughters.
There were glimpses of her pregnant, wobbling around the house with her hair long and shiny, her skin glowing, and the pair of dimples at the ends of her smile.
Then I woke up with machines and tubes hooked up to my body, a needle in my arm, and monitors beeping all around me. That was the day I realized I had no one. No one was there when I woke up, no one called—no one cared.
Hell, no one gave enough fucks to get my body off the floor and get help. All I know is that someone called for help, and I don’t think I will ever know who.
But I woke up, utterly alone, wishing that the only girl I’d ever loved was beside me. I wished that I deserved the only girl I’d ever loved.
That was when the plan began. Rehab. Meetings. Sobriety. Lana. My girl. My soulmate.
Lana doesn’t know though, and I have to tell her.
Until then, this boundary is only fair to her.
I can’t take her to bed, kiss her, undress her, and make love to her with that wall still standing there.
It has been a faulty boundary after everything we’ve done, but sex with Lana has always been something more.
Sex before had been a means to an end. It was something that offered a break from my mind for a moment, and something I regretted later.
But sex with Lana is more than a release.
It’s a connection, it’s one of our truest forms of intimacy.
When she’s there, I’m there. Sex with her means something to me.
Touching her means something, whether it’s holding her hand or my thigh touching hers when she sits next to me—I always need to be touching her. I’ve always needed it.
After our friends sang happy birthday, I couldn’t let her go.
She spent too much time out of my arms while I was talking with the guys so I held her back against my chest with my arms around her.
Albeit she wickedly wiggled her ass against my dick so I moved her to my side, but she knew there would be no chance of me letting her go.
She’s my person.
I kiss her head and sit up slowly, holding her to me. Carefully, I curl my arms around her body, one under her knees, and lift her with me as I stand. I pause and wait to assess her reaction to the movement, but she only blows out a breath.
Holding her closely and tightly, I head toward the stairs and up to her bedroom. I hope it’ll be our bedroom soon, but I know it won’t be ours for long once I find her the perfect house.
I push her door open with my foot and my chest aches with the same thought.
Everything will be perfect once I’ve told her everything and once we have the perfect house we were always working our asses off to save for.
I gently set her down and pull her pale yellow blanket over her bare legs.
Once she’s covered, I rest my hand on her hip and reach up to kiss her forehead.
My lips linger, breathing her in for a moment.
“I love you,” I murmur and kiss her cheek. Not wanting to go, I force my feet toward the door.
“Christian?” Lana moans, stirring just as I reach the threshold.
I find my way back to her instantly. “Yeah, baby?”
“Come here,” she rasps and reaches for me. Her hand comes around my nape and her lips press against mine softly. Once. “Thank you.”
I smile against her lips before I kiss their corner. “Goodnight, baby.”
“Goodnight, baby.”