50. technicolor dreams
CHAPTER 50
TECHNICOLOR DREAMS
EMMA
R elief is the letting go of the burdens which weigh us down. The slaying of these phantom pressures is enough to free our lungs, allowing us to breach the surface and continue.
I never knew true relief until Charlie came along.
Now? No matter the issue—what to have for dinner, where to spend the day, how to occupy my parents—he has it covered. Before him, I never gave much thought to how much I wanted, needed , someone I could rely on.
Tending to my worries the same way he tinkers with his car, checking that we’re in safe keeping.
“My life is in your hands,” he’ll say. “Gotta keep you both purring.”
Then he’ll throw me a wink, knowing he’s only riling me up further. Those nights, he’s lucky if he gets to come.
Two strong arms wrap around my waist, then Charlie’s chest presses against my back. We fit together just as perfectly now as we have for the last ten years. “I love you,” he says, kissing the sensitive spot behind my ear.
I lean into him. “I love you more.”
“That’s not possible.”
It’s a beautiful night, clear, cool. It’s been a long time since I’ve been in my old apartment, but I miss the sticky, sweaty tangle of limbs when the air conditioning went out.
“Do you remember Venice?” I ask.
“I remember getting fleeced by that guy with the birds.”
I laugh. “I told you not to talk to him.”
“Yeah, yeah. Basic tourist fail, I know. What made you think about Venice?”
With a sigh, I pull his arms tighter around me. A decade of this, and I still want to soak up as much of him as I can. I want the feel of him burning so deep in my marrow that I can’t ever forget it. To take it with me wherever I go.
“Walking through the canals before dawn, it was as if we were the only people there. The only people anywhere. It was so quiet. Kind of lonely too, although it was nice to move through the streets without the crowds. But then you put your arm around me, and it made all the difference. Because you were with me, and I didn’t feel lonely anymore.”
It’s about so much more than Venice, and we both know it.
“Emma,” he says, his voice straining the same way my heart is, his hold tightening.
“I’m here.” For now and forever.
“Do you know what I realized in Venice?” he asks.
I turn my head to smile at him. “How much better Italian coffee is?”
“That’s slander,” he teases, bringing his lips to mine. The kiss is deep and slow, reminiscent of a hundred before it, with the promise of a thousand more. “I wasn’t sure what I expected to find when we stepped off the train. For so long, I’d been telling myself it would be this incredible place, bigger and better than anything I’ve seen. But it was just… fine. Cool, yeah, but not mind-blowing. I wanted to be Dorothy, stepping onto the yellow brick road. But it wasn’t like that at all. And I didn’t want to say anything, because what kind of a dick gets to Venice and is like ‘meh’? It wasn’t until that night, watching you charm the sommelier at the hotel—fuck, he was so into you. I wanted to throttle him. That stupid accent?—”
“Focus, Charlie.”
“Right. Anyway, you were magnificent. So fucking gorgeous. You always have been. But you were in your element. Lit up the way you get when you’re showing off. I fucking love it. And it hit me. My life turned technicolor the second you walked into it. Everything else pales in comparison.”
“Charlie,” I choke out, tears stinging the corners of my eyes.
He threads our fingers together, raises our joined hands to his lips.
“That’s a nice ring,” he says.
“Thanks. Some jerk I used to work with gave it to me.”
He chuckles, and I don’t think I’ve ever been this happy. “Lucky guy.”
“He really is.” I turn in his arms and drag my hands down his chest.
He flexes underneath them, bringing a smile to my face. Show-off.
“Not as lucky as I am, though.”
“Wouldn’t count on that, sweetheart.”
Slowly, I wrap his tie around my wrist and pull him back inside.
THE END