Chapter 33 #2
He shakes his head, a slow movement. “It’s all intertwined in a way, but no.
We’re not leaving simply to survive. We don’t explore the vastness of space because we’re scared of what’s out there.
Or scared of what will happen if we stay on a dying planet.
A person doesn’t fear the end. They fear losing what they’ve gained.
They fear loss. And the greatest loss, the thing we hold most dear and what drives our passion, our thirst for knowledge, the bonds we forge along the way…
is love. It’s the universal language. It transcends space and time and every barrier put in front of it.
Even light gets swallowed by the gravity of a black hole.
But love? Love is the reason we seek to see beyond it. ”
My swallow is more than a little rough, the ache in my chest familiar now where this man is concerned. “What do they call that? There’s a name for it, is there not?”
“The event horizon.”
I nod, trying to find my breath. “I won’t claim to understand what it could mean, seeing beyond that point. But…”
Caspian looks concerned by whatever he hears in my voice or sees on my face. “But what? ”
My smile for him is meant to reassure, but it feels brittle at the edges. Not because I don’t mean it. But simply because I’m trying to find my footing again after having what feels like my entire world tugged out from under me.
“But if that’s how you feel about love,” I finally manage, “then I count myself lucky to be the person you were searching for.”
Understanding lights in his eyes, and he draws in a breath, moisture pooling that he rapidly blinks away.
“I told you I believe you,” I remind him.
He nods.
“So however it is you love me, I’ll do my absolute best to love you back just the same.”
He doesn’t say anything to that, but a small sound leaves his throat.
I scoot my pillow around the blanket until it’s beside his.
His leg is warm pressed against mine, his breathing soft as I hand him a plate.
We eat in relative silence as I block Shelly’s attempts to steal our desserts.
I don’t know if Caspian feels as overwhelmed by all of this as I do, having had years to acclimate—his whole life really—versus my months.
But I strongly suspect I’m not the only one feeling the loss of gravity beneath my feet.
The shifting of reality. Of all I thought I knew.
When our dinner plates are empty, I bring the desserts closer. “I assume you still have room? It’s no pea-green gelatin, but I did my best.”
He huffs a small laugh. “You didn’t eat that, did you?”
“Oh, hell no. That stuff had stomach troubles written all over it.”
He chuckles, plucking a small lemon tart from the tray.
“Full disclosure,” I say before he can take a bite. “I didn’t make these myself. You can thank the bakery in town for that.”
“It’s the thought that’s perfect. ”
Caspian hums as a piece of the tart disappears between his lips. I try not to stare, but it’s near impossible not to. The dim light of the room and the candles casting light across Caspian’s face makes me feel as if I’m in a dream.
Is this how he feels every time he has a vision? Like every second is too important to miss? I don’t dare blink, scarcely breathe. But then Caspian is handing me a dessert off the tray, and I look down at the offering.
A piece of crispy baklava.
“My favorite,” I murmur, accepting the treat. The combination of pistachio and honey is divine, and I nearly moan at the first hit of it against my tongue.
Caspian looks amused. “I know.”
I cock my head, wondering if I should even ask how he guessed as much.
But Shelly takes that moment to get past my defenses, her tiny paws perilously close to the remainder of our desserts.
Caspian scoops her up quickly and efficiently, cradling my cat as if she’s a child.
Shelly melts, allowing him to scratch her stomach, a feat not many men have attempted and lived to tell the tale.
“You’ve bewitched us all,” I mutter.
Caspian’s gaze swings to me. “Have I?”
He looks pleasantly startled when I run a hand through the short hair at the side of his head.
He leans into the touch, much as my cat would, his eyes fluttering closed.
If I weren’t already under his spell, that would do it.
Seeing his trust. His longing so close to the surface.
The way he’s offering himself. Freely and without barriers of his own.
I don’t know what the future holds. But right this instant, I know with a certainty I feel in my bones, in my very makeup, that I could fall in love with this man if I let myself .
I bring my mouth to his slowly, his lips tart from the lemon but sweet as well.
He doesn’t shy away. He’s in my kitchen, in my life, waiting for me to come to conclusions he already knows.
My kiss is a question, asking him if this is it.
If he feels it, too. His answer is in the way he opens to me, my poor cat abandoned in favor of Caspian’s hands holding me tight, telling me I’m on the right track.
We kiss until the sky is fully dark, the candles half-burnt, leaving wax trails on my countertops. And even then, we don’t go upstairs. Not right away. We lay our heads on the pillows, lying side by side as we battle sleep, talking about the stars and the future and the now.
I think Caspian was right. Our choices matter. Every one of them.
And I’ve already made my choice.