Page 121 of Love What's Left
The muscles of his back and shoulders flex against me, and memories flood me. Gabriel between my thighs. My husband over me. Behind me. Under me. Inside me. Other times when his cologne mixed with the scent of sex. We made love in the shower. In bed. Against a wall. In a car. In a tent.
It was so much more than physical. We loved each other with the kind of overwhelming devotion that meant I washis. Not as an act of possession, but of belonging.
Before Gabriel, I’d never belonged anywhere or to anyone. I focused on finding a place, never realizing “home” isthis. It’s the kind of love you can count on, even when it’s inconvenient. Even when one of you was a pain in the ass. It’s acceptance, forgiveness, adoration, friendship—with the kind of rock-steady security that means if we need each other, we’ll be there.
My thighs tighten around him, my entire body clenching as I press my face directly against his neck.
Gabriel, completely oblivious to my soul-altering revelation, laughs. “You’re sniffing me again.”
“You smell good.” I allow my tongue to dart out and taste him. Salty and delicious.
He stumbles before regaining his footing. The muscles in his back harden beneath me, and his breaths grow shallow. “Fuck.”
I straighten and heave a big, fake sigh. “Sorry. I can control myself.”
“We’ll see about that.”
But we have an audience in the form of guards in the distance, so I keep my lips to myself. At the farthest edge of the shoreline, he lowers me to my feet. I sit, and he drops to the sand to rest beside me.
I close my eyes, my legs crossed and my hands braced behind me on the cool, damp sand. “I remembered dancing with you in the kitchen.”
“I’m glad. It’s a good memory.”
I swallowdown my fear and open my eyes. “Do you think I could be that person for you again someday?”
He watches the water. I like that he doesn’t rush to answer with a platitude.
“My parents,” he says at last, “aren’t exactly the same people they were when they got married, but they love each other more, not less. When life changed them, they made a choice to grow together.”
He rests his forearms on his raised knees. “I believe we’ll find happiness like that again. We’ll dance in the kitchen and laugh until our faces hurt. We’ll kiss and fight and hold on to each other come hell or high water. But you won’t be exactly the person you were, and neither will I. You aren’t less than she was. I’ll love what’s left from our past, and I’ll fall desperately in love with every new version of you. We’ll grow together.”
“You say it so easily. I love you.” I rub his wedding ring with my thumb.
“I’m sorry. I wasn’t trying to pressure you.”
He clearly misunderstood me, thinking I was quoting him, not saying it myself. A lump lodges in my throat. I’ve made him feel his care for me is something to apologize for when it’s the most beautiful thing I’ve ever known.
I’d draw my confession in the sand if that’s what it took, write it on paper a million times over, but I don’t need to because the words are here now, ready to fall off my tongue. “No. I meanI love you, Gabriel.I love you so much that I don’t care that it terrifies me. I love you.”
For a moment, we’re a frozen tableau, then he drags me against him, one arm clamped at my waist and the fingers of his other hand curving around the back of my head. His thumb skates over my cheekbone. “You said the words.”
I nod. Even if the worst should happen in the future, and today was all I ever had with him, it would be worth it. No one has guarantees. People have accidents. They get sick. They die. Love is accepting that one day I could face devastating loss and knowing a broken heart, full and bleeding love, is better than one that’s whole but has always been empty.
His mouth lands on mine. I press my body against the sturdy, steadfast, promise of his.
He groans. “Sydney.”
“Gabriel.” I slide my hands under the hem of his T-shirt to feel his warm skin.
“You know I love you. I adore you. I worship you,” he says desperately.
“‘Worship’ is a little blasphemous.”
He pinches my side gently in exactly the place that makes me shriek with laughter, then he leans down to speak against my mouth. “You couldn’t have told me you loved me somewhere private so we could go straight into a no-pants party to celebrate?”
God, I love him. He’sso Gabriel. “Do you wish I hadn’t said it now?”
“Never. I want you to say it again.”
