Page 63 of How to Get Lucky
Her eyes sparkle with happiness, a wild sort of joy filling them. “I don’t want to lose you either,” she says, and those words make everything better, knowing that we’re in this together.
I sigh happily and sway closer to her, cupping her cheek. “I am so in love with you. And I don’t want to lose you. Whatever happens next in my life, I want it to happen with you. And I hope you feel the same.”
She grabs my face, draws me to her, and presses her lips to mine, giving me the softest, most wonderful kiss any man has ever received.
Then she pulls back. “I am so in love with you. And I want to figure everything out with you too.”
Best day in the history of ever.
“You mean it? Even if you go to San Francisco for the job?”
Her smile is wide and bright. “Actually, I am heading to San Francisco for the job. I saw my friends last night, and I decided to go,” she says.
A part of me doesn’t want her to go, but a bigger part is thrilled for her. For this opportunity. For what it means for her career. “All right. What’s the plan? I’ll be there every weekend if you want me to. I’ll fly you back down here.”
She laughs, shaking her head. “You don’t have to. I only took the job because it’s for a month. It’s a limited run. It’s a great opportunity, and I’m super excited to do it. I took it knowing I’d be back here soon. My family is here, my friends are here, and you’re here. And I believed that I’d be back together with you. If the job was longer than that, I would have said no.”
I melt a little more for her, fall a little deeper, love a little harder. “You mean that?”
“Of course I mean it. I wouldn’t take a job and move away even when we were on hold. I saw my friends last night, and I was bummed about us, but also hopeful. I know what we have is special, and I was going to come see you today and tell you that I’m crazy about you too.”
My grin is bigger than this city. “More than crazy,” I say, feeling like I’m walking on air.
“So much more than crazy,” she says as Mr. Darcy scurries over along with David Bowie. They run circles around us, Bowie dropping the tennis ball this time, begging for someone to throw it.
I heed the dog call. I reach down, pick it up, and throw it across the park, then I gather London into my arms and kiss her once more.
Everything about this moment feels right. This is where I first talked to her in depth. This is where I first knew she was the woman I wanted to see.
Here we are again, giving this thing between us a real chance.
When I break the kiss, I run a hand through her hair. “Remember when you saw my tattoo?”
“I sure do.”
I pull the sleeve up on my arm. “I’ve always been so fixated on the points, but I’ve never thought about that empty space created in the middle,” I say, pointing to the spot. “Now I realize that spot’s been waiting for you. Right there, in the center of me.”
She grabs the neck of my shirt and pulls me closer. “That’s exactly where I want to be,” she says, and she smashes her lips to mine.
We pick up on that a little later, when we head to my place, toss some hedgies to the pups, then strip to nothing in seconds.
We move together, kissing, touching, loving.
A day with London that I never want to end.
But it does end because I need to work that night. I have to finish out my commitment to Archer. He’s not there, but that’s okay. I do the job, and when I’m done I text London, and she meets me with her dog at my place.
Now this is a perfect end to a perfect day.
37
The dogs snore softly at the foot of the bed the next morning. London’s eyes are still peacefully closed, her thigh draped over my leg. I could get used to this.
But my bliss is short-lived when I grab my phone, spotting a message from Archer asking if I can meet him for coffee this morning to finish our discussion. I check the clock then fire off a reply confirming the time and place.
I take a quick shower and throw on some clothes as London stirs in bed.
“Where are you going?” Her voice is all sleepy-sexy.
“I have a meeting with your brother. Shouldn’t be long. Stay. Relax. I will return with coffee and bagels.”
She smiles softly. “I’m so glad you didn’t say muffins.”
“Muffins are gigantic calorie bombs that can’t commit to being cupcakes,” I say. “If I want a cupcake, I’ll get a cupcake.”
