Page 95 of Some Sort of Happy (Happy Crazy Love 1)
“Do you?” He arched one brow. “Because you know what it means to be my one.”
“Tell me.”
“It means being the one I’ll kiss good morning and good night—twice.” He grinned. “It means being the one who’ll have to hold my hand when we fly off to our villa in France.” At my gasp, his smile widened. “It means the forever things, Skylar.”
“I want them.” I scooted up and pressed a kiss to his lips. “I want them all.”
He flipped me onto my back again and looked down at me. “Then live with me.”
My heart stopped. “What?”
“Stay here. Live with me.”
“Are you serious?”
“Yes. I’m one hundred percent sure about this, and one hundred is a good number.”
I laughed softly as tears filled my eyes again. “You keep making me cry tonight. What’s with that?”
“I don’t want you to cry. Ever again.” He kissed my eyelids.
“They’re happy tears, Sebastian. Of course I’ll live with you.”
“Good.” He scooted down to rest his head on my chest and we lay together, the fire warming our skin, our breathing slow and deep. “Happy tears are good, I can handle those. And if there are sad tears, I’ll handle those too. I’ll take care of you, Skylar.”
“And I’ll take care of you.” I closed my eyes and inhaled, loving the weight of his head on my chest, the warmth of his skin against mine, the promise of hope in the air. “Forever.”
“Are you ready?”
“I think so.” His face told me what a lie that was, but I’d budgeted plenty of time for his nerves into today’s itinerary. After living with him for the past two months, I knew to allot extra time for pretty much anything we did outside the house. He was getting much better about checking, but today was new ground for him.
“Come on. You’ve got this.” I tugged on his hand, but he didn’t move. “It’s not like we’re getting on the plane yet, Sebastian. This is the airport entrance.” As I talked, I took his elbow and ushered him gently through the automatic doors. “There are nice people in there who are going to look at our boarding passes and tell us what gate to sit at, and some other nice people are going to overcharge us for coffee and tell us to have a nice flight, and then some more nice people are going to show us how to use a seat belt and thank us for flying with them today.”
By the time I’d finished my soothing little speech, we were inside the terminal.
“See? You’re here, and you’re fine,” I said triumphantly.
“Now what?” he asked shakily.
“Now we’ll check in and find our gate. We don’t even have any luggage to check, so it will be nice and easy. OK?”
He took a deep breath. “OK.”
“Good. Because this little Valentine’s weekend jaunt was your idea and you paid for it, so it would be a damn shame if I had to give your ticket to someone else.”
“Don’t you dare.” He caught me around the waist and squeezed. “How long is the flight again?”
I kissed his cheek. “One hour and ten minutes, and I will talk to you the entire time.”
Some color returned to his face as he smiled. “I have no doubt.”
I pulled out our boarding passes, which I’d printed at work, and we got in line to check in. Sebastian seemed more relaxed until we were told that the flight was leaving from gate three.
“Stop worrying,” I told him, taking his hand again. “The gate number does not matter.”
We located gate three, grabbed five dollar cups of coffee, and chose seats near the window. The weather was bleak and dreary, and I was so looking forward to getting away. Not that the Chicago weather would be any better, but it would be fun to stay in a luxury hotel together, shop the Magnificent Mile, have dinner in a gourmet French restaurant or maybe a cozy little Italian place. Honestly, I didn’t care what we did—what mattered most was that we’d be there together. Our first vacation.
“Hey.” I tipped my head onto his shoulder. “Thanks for this. I know you don’t really want to do it.”
