Page 105 of Beautiful Monster

“It was the cinnamon rolls that got him.” She smiles.

This is all too weird. I almost can’t bear to even look too closely. What if it all goes away next time I look? Then, I remember how I felt when Alex bared his soul on the rooftop.

Love is not a reward.

I may not forgive my mom yet for everything that happened, but I still love her. Before I walk out the back door and across the yard, I pull her into a tight hug, and I tell her so. It makes her cry again, but I don’t start this time. I’m too anxious to get to his house. To be in his arms.

Leaving my sister and mother, I walk across the patio and backyard, almost feeling like I’m intruding. Is he expecting me? I’m sure he knows the program ended today, but I’m still afraid I’ll catch him off guard.

He’s not on the patio, but as I head toward the back of the house, something catches my eye in the pool house. With the doors wide open, he’s standing with the mural at his back, facing me—like he’s waiting for me.

I see his Adam’s apple bob as his eyes land on mine. There’s relief in his expression, and I don’t hesitate, racing toward him and burying my face in his chest. His warm arms engulf me, squeezing my body impossibly tight.

Hungrily, my lips travel up to his mouth, kissing him fiercely. He sucks my lip between his teeth, nibbling enough to light a spark in my body. I really expected that we might actually say at least a few words to each other before we screwed each other straight into next week, but if he keeps kissing me like that, there is absolutely no chance of us waiting.

“Wait,” he breathes against my cheek as he pulls away. “We can take our time.”

Take our time? Six months for both of us and he wants to take his time? I feel like I’m crawling out of my skin. Reluctantly, I sink back on my heels, looking up at him. He still has the warm beard, and his temples have a few extra colorless strands. I run my hands through his hair, and for a moment, I try to feel a difference. Does knowing what I know about his past change how I feel about him? Am I completely sure about this?

When he smiles at me, the gentle wrinkles in his eyes shining down on me, I know there isn’t a shred of doubt. If anything, my love has only grown.

“You’re home,” he whispers, kissing my forehead, a hint of question in the lilt of his voice.

“I’m home,” I echo, reassuring him. I’m home…for good.

I’ll bring up Belize later. There’s still time. For now, I just want to enjoy this moment.

“Come inside. I want you to meet someone.”

He winds his fingers with mine and pulls me toward the house. I nearly dig my heels in, afraid of who this someone might be, but when I spot the brown striped cat rubbing against his leg as we walk through the door, my jaw drops.

“You got a cat?”

He picks up the animal, and it starts purring immediately, rubbing his head against Alexander’s chin. It almost seems out of character for him, the man who holds everyone at a distance, falling into a pile of mush for a cat.

“After you left, he just started showing up, hanging around outside. So, I started feeding him, and then he just never left.”

Leaning in with a smile, I pet the cat and he purrs against my hand. We never owned animals growing up, but already I can see the appeal. When the cat looks at me, I feel a bond with him. “What’s his name?” I ask.

“George.”

A laugh bursts from my lips. “That’s a terrible name for a cat.”

Alexander shrugs. “It fits.”

My smile stretches across my face as I stand flush against his body, the cat between us as we both pet him, until George decides he’s had enough and jumps away, finding a spot in the window to nap.

Alexander leans down and kisses me again, and my heart starts hammering in my chest. When his hands cascade down my back and land on my waist, I press my hips into his. His body reacts immediately, and I can feel it.

“Can I make you dinner first?” he asks, pulling our lips away but keeping his forehead pressed against mine. I have to swallow down my disappointment. I was ready to move this conversation to the bedroom.

“Of course,” I answer easily. As he walks toward the kitchen, I follow him until I take a good look around the house.

It’s so unfamiliar from the way I left it. Art hangs on every wall, pictures in frames around the living room. As I turn the corner into the hallway, I notice the office is fitted with a desk, and there’s a laptop and papers stacked along the surface.

I almost can’t believe it’s the same house. There isn’t a single box in sight.

“I unpacked.” He laughs.