A partner. For some reason the simple phrase brings back what he’d said earlier, about how dating at our age is different than if we were younger. And it’s true. At twenty, I might not have appreciated how significant someone saying they like having me as a partner is. On the surface, it isn’t perhaps the most romantic of confessions. But we’ve both done life alone up until this point, and so we know what it truly means to appreciate having someone walk alongside of you, take part in both your burdens and your joys, be your equal, and choose to share all of that with one other person.
With you.
My heart swells in my chest. “I like having you as a partner too, Julien.”
His gaze sweeps my face again, pausing on my lips. My breath hitches, anticipation thrumming through my veins. Like so many times before, I know what he’s thinking, what he’s asking, without him having to utter a single word. We share a mind—or maybe it’s a heart?—because every part of me is saying the exact same thing as his:Kiss me.
We meet in the middle, both of us reaching out for the other. Equal partners, as he’d said. His warm lips press against mine just as I press mine against his. When we tell this storyto others, there will be no “he kissed me” or “I kissed him.” We truly kissed each other.
His hand moves from under my chin to cradle the side of my face. I get a strong sense of déjà vu, which can’t be right because I know for a fact I’ve never kissed Julien King before in my life. And yet, this kiss feels familiar. It’s like your favorite oversized T-shirt that you put on after a long, hard day. Or the song you listen to on repeat whenever you need a pick-me-up. It’s like coming home, only home is a person and not a place.
Julien cups the other side of my face, angling my head how he wants me. His mouth becomes more persistent, the sweetness of a moment before now followed with a hint of spice, not unlike my favorite Mexican hot chocolate. Any doubts I maybe have harbored about the truth of his attraction toward me are quite literally kissed away as he slowly loses his grip on the self-control he must have been double-fisting all this time.
As if coming back to himself, he gentles the kiss once more before resting his forehead on mine. We’re both breathing a little raggedly, and it strikes me that maybe we’re more capable of acting a bit carefree and reckless than I originally gave us credit for.
30
The sound of someone knocking on my door wakes me from a dead sleep. I bolt upright in bed at the same time my heart jumps into my throat. I don’t know about anyone else, but being startled awake by a loud noise twenty feet away when you live alone in the country is enough to make my mind jump to serial killers. Thankfully, my adrenaline-pumped brain chimes in and reminds me that a serial killer probably wouldn’t knock if he wanted to break in and murder me in my sleep.
“Who is it?” I call as I swing my legs out of bed and stuff my feet into a pair of slippers.
“It’s Julien” comes the muffled reply.
Now my heart is racing for an entirely different reason. The “Flight of the Bumblebee” tune starts going through my mind as a soundtrack to my franticness. I look down at myself and take in my sleep set. He’s already seen me in my pajamas multiple times, so there’s no use trying to change clothes. My hair is a hopeless cause too, although I do find a scrunchie and quickly pull it up into a messy bun. My breath, though ... I cup my hand over my mouth, breathe, then race to the bathroom.
“Just a minute!”
I swirl mouthwash around, gargle, then spit. That’s as goodas it’s going to get at the moment. I’m attractively (yeah right) rubbing sleep out of my eye when I open the door.
“Good morning,” Julien says way too cheerfully while he looks entirely too handsome in his pristine blue suit. He holds out a to-go cup from Cotton-Eyed Cup of Joe. “The barista said Mexican hot chocolate is your favorite.”
Just the mention of the drink makes me think of our kiss last night. I take the warm beverage and duck my head, taking a sip even though my mouth is still minty from the mouthwash, simply so I can have a minute to comport myself. The memory of that kiss makes my stomach flutter in the most delicious way.
“Can I come in?” Julien asks, and I realize I’m blocking his path into the apartment like a dunderhead.
I step aside, then close the door behind him. When I turn back around, he’s staring at me, that soft expression back on his face.
“I don’t think I’ll ever get over how you look first thing in the morning.”
I pat the topknot that’s slipped to a weird angle on top of my head. “Like a mess?”
“Adorable.” He takes a step closer, invading my space. “Kissable.” He leans down and presses a kiss to my lips to prove his point before wrenching himself away and physically pushing me back a step with his hands on my shoulders. “Nope. Can’t get distracted. That’s not why I came this morning.”
I’m not complaining, and I definitely don’t mind if he lets himself get distracted, but I am curious. “Whyareyou here so early this morning? I thought you’d be at the office all day.”
“I need to talk to you, and I wanted you to hear this from me and not some news circuit. Knowing my dad, he’s likely to put out a press release before the dust has any time to settle.” He unbuttons his suit jacket and then takes a seat on my tiny sofa.
I look at him there, in my space, and I’m hit again by howright it feels, him here with me. I wonder if I’d look just as right in his space. In the life he’s made for himself. He pats the cushion beside him, inviting me over. And, I think, that’s exactly what he’s doing—inviting me into his life. Making room for me.
I sit beside him, but not too close. Instead, I angle my body so that I’m facing him. This seems like a serious face-to-face conversation about to happen and not a cuddle-on-the-couch-and-relax kind of dialogue. Even so, my knee presses against his thigh. I’m thankful for the point of contact. For the warmth flowing from his body into mine. The reassurance it brings.
“From your body language, I’m assuming whatever you want to say isn’t good news.”
Julien takes my hand and squeezes my fingers. “Dad finally admitted that it’s time to retire. There’s a board meeting later today where he’s officially naming me as CEO and president of King Publishing, effective immediately.”
“Julien, that’s wonderful!” I launch myself into his arms, happiness filling my heart to almost-bursting levels. This is what he’s wanted. What he’s spent so long working so hard for. Not to mention he can stop worrying so much about how the stress of work is affecting his dad’s health. “Why, it’s terrific news.”
He hugs me back, squeezing me tight. For some reason, his arms around me feel less like a celebration and more like he’s trying to protect me. Like he’s physically trying to wrap himself around me to keep me safe. Against what, I don’t know. We should be firing off confetti cannons right now.