“Frosted Flakes are my favorite!” She picked up the box and turned it in her hands. “I pegged you all wrong, Michaels. I figured, with two Splendas in your coffee and a set of abs that won’t quit, you’d be a Raisin Bran kind of guy.”
My mouth fell open in feigned injury as I reached back into the cabinet. “I’m offended.” I pulled down a box of Raisin Bran and dropped it onto the counter with a loud thud. “And also thoroughly impressed.”
“I knew it!”
While she dissolved into a fit of laughter, I opened the brand-new box of Frosted Flakes and filled her bowl. “You knew nothing. So what, I like to eat healthy during the week so I can keep up with a certain ravenous woman but then also treat myself with roughly a pound of sugar per bowl on the weekend. What of it?”
She laughed again as I poured in the milk and then slid breakfast her way. “I better be that certain ravenous woman.”
“Look who’s jealous now,” I teased, propping my hip against the counter.
She took a bite and chewed, and I stood there, eagerly awaiting her snappy reply.
“It’s me. I’m jealous. I’m not sure my heart is up for sharing you.”
“Then don’t,” I stated matter-of-factly, all the while trying to play it cool. The idea of sharing her was enough to set fire to my veins. “I sure as hell don’t want anyone else.”
Her cheeks pinked and she raked her teeth over her bottom lip. “Me either.”
I curled my hand around the back of her neck and tipped her head. She beamed up at me, and fuck, she owned me. “Then that’s settled. Nobody else exists.”
“That easy, huh? Every other woman in the world just suddenly disappeared?”
I dipped down, brushing my nose with hers, her exhales filling my lungs with more life than I’d felt in God only knew how long. “There are two types of people in the world, Remi. There are a million somebodies on this planet. But there’s a huge difference between somebody and someone. From the moment we met, I knew you, my beautiful, crazy woman, were definitely someone. And if there is even a fraction of a chance that you think I’m a someone too, then yeah, it’s exactly that easy. To hell with the rest of the women in the world. I want you.”
Tears sparkled in her eyes, and she circled her arms around my hips, hugging me tight. “Of course I think you’re someone. If you want the truth, a part of me thinks you’re the only one. But isn’t this all too fast? You’ve been through so much and—”
“Period,” I stated.
Her brows sank together, confusion contorting her beautiful face. “What?”
“You said I’ve been through so much. That should be the end of the statement. No and or continuation of thought. No one knows better than me that the last few months—hell, years—haven’t been the easiest. But when I’m with you, Remi, none of it matters.”
Curling my hand around the side of her face, I brushed her jaw with the pad of my thumb. “I want to explore things with you. And I mean more than just that sexy body of yours. Remi, baby, if this is just the start, imagine how good it could get.” I smirked and then nipped at her bottom lip. “And if I could do that without having to wage war against every man who no doubt falls at your feet on a damn near daily basis, then no. It’s not too fast. It’s about fucking time.”
I didn’t wait for her reply.
I kissed her.
Really kissed her.
Tasting and exploring her mouth as if it were the very first time, because in a lot of ways, it was. It was a fresh start. The beginning. The end. Everything all rolled into one.
And fuck me, fucking fuck me, I had never been so damn excited about something in my entire life.
We were both late that morning. And not because I’d hauled her back to the bedroom the way I so desperately wanted. We sat side by side at my bar, her enjoying a bowl of Frosted Flakes, me with Raisin Bran, and toasted our new relationship with travel mugs of coffee.
We laughed.
I anchored my hand to her thigh.
And she wiped a dribble of milk off my chin with her thumb.
It was all so easy and perfectly normal.
That should have been my first sign that everything was about to go to hell all over again.
Bowen
Remi: Good morning, boyfriend. Or are we too old for that? Manfriend? We really should iron out these titles sooner rather than later.
Me: Since you insisted on going home last night and are texting me and not lying beside me naked, there is officially nothing good about this morning.
Remi: Could you be more dramatic? It was one night. I left your house like twelve hours ago.
