Page 134 of Possession

The crowd goes wild.

“God, yes. But this…” I swallow and her eyes soften as she watches. “This is about much more than that. You know?” I grab her hand and run my thumb over the rings on her finger. “These symbolize a partnership out there in the world, where I lived a half-life ’til I met you.”

The peanut gallery lets out a loudaaaaaawwwwww, and I scoff and wave them away and shuffle my feet and look up, my face hot as hell, and say, “Will you wear my collar, sweetheart? Will you do that for me?”

She gasps, her eyes wide, her cheeks the dark pink they get at the start of a scene. “Yes,” she whispers, then clears her throat and, for the people in the back, projects like hell. “Yes, Zion. I’ll wear it.”

With relief, I open the box and hold it out for a second, like a total dipshit and then, tense as hell, I grab the delicate gold collar and wrap it around her neck, clip it in place, and step back, my heart thumping a mile a minute.

I run my finger over the ring at the base of her throat, then dig my hands into her hair, and finally look into her eyes.

“Don’t cry,” I whisper. “Baby,don’t.”

She smiles and half laughs and a tear leaks from the corner of her eye and races down to meet her lip and I wipe it with my thumb and lean in for a the kind of clashing kiss you only ever see in movies.

Except it’s real, this time. It’s deep and hot and so full of love, I swear we’re making music with our mouths.

We kiss for way too long like this, which would be weird anyplace else, but given we’re at a special camp session and these people don’t have a problem with sex or intimacy or pleasure or pain or, hell, seeing a grown man cry, then I guess they don’t mind. Even as my tears overflow to join Twyla’s, I don’t feel a moment’s shame or embarrassment or any of that shit designed to keep us in line.

No, I feel loved.

Loved and seen and goddamn proud to be here.

With a shuddery exhale, we pull away from each other.

“I love you,” I whisper.

With a shaky exhale, I give that collar a final look and turn to the folks I know and love and will forever be grateful to, and say. “All right. It’s a rough, early cut. Still got months of post-production to go, but I figured you all deserve to see the movie that, uh, saved Camp Haven. So, sit back, enjoy. Don’t rib us too much. It was mostly improv. And…” I look down into the front row. “If you’ve got any complaints, the director’s sitting right here, so, take it up with Enid. I’m sure she’ll be happy to listen.”

Enid blows me a raspberry and yells, “Start the damn thing already! We’re here to see a movie.”

Laughing my ass off, I step offstage and sit in my seat, gathering Twyla close to me. I tilt my head as it opens on a shot of her looking like a dream in latex and stilettos, whipping a well-known older actor in a Paris apartment, and say, “That okay? I hated to spring it on you, but…”

“You felt like we never got our wedding.”

“Exactly.” I’m relieved. Goddamn, the woman gets me.

“And,” she whispers directly into my ear. “If we’re thinking of this as, say, a wedding night, maybe we could do something special?”

I turn full now, ignoring the whispers of the people sitting behind us. “Such as?”

She inhales, long and slow and mysterious, sort of like the woman up on the screen. “I was thinking I might be ready to try thatthingwe were talking about.”

My pulse quickens. “Yeah?”

“Yep…” She glances around, as if anyone here gives a shit. “I’m ready.”

“Oh, baby, I could…” I drop my forehead to hers. “I could…”

“You can,” she says, with a sultry smile. “And you will. But for now, how about you lift up my dress and finger me while we watch thisstellarfilm?”

“You’resucha brat.” I squeeze her thigh.

“You love it.” She squeezes my arm.

“I really do.”

“And I love you.” Her squeeze turns to a caress.

“I know.” I kiss her, long and soft and with every ounce of my filthy little heart. “I’m the luckiest man alive.”

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