and right. Then his sleek tongue slid against mine and we were devouring each other to the best of our abilities. Hot, wet kisses really were their own reward. I hoped we’d always be clutching hands and eager mouths. The familiar taste of him was delicious. The faint scent of his sweat mixing with his cologne a dream. Our teeth knocked against each other, our making-out getting frenzied. Because the feel of him hardening against my rear was nothing less than divine. We needed to get somewhere private and do away with our clothes as soon as possible.
But first, he’d made a huge concession by not getting on that plane. He’d put me first when no adult male had chosen to do that for me. I needed to put myself out there too. Take a chance.
“I love you, Paddy,” I said, my voice about as firm as possible, given the situation.
“You do, huh?”
“Yes.” I happy sighed. “You don’t have to say it back or anything. I know it’s early days. Though you did sort of say it before the TV interview. We never did get around to discussing that, did we? But I want you to know—”
“I love you, too.”
I paused. He was so beautiful inside and out. All I could do was stare. “You do?”
“Why do you think I didn’t get on that plane?”
“Huh.”
“You can have anything and everything you want from me, Norah. I’ve told you before. Maybe this time you’ll believe it.”
“I believe it.” I smiled, heart full to bursting. Which would be messy, but oh well. I was starting to realize that love was like that. Messy and magical and everything in between. And hands down, living this reality with him beat anything up for offer on the silver screen.
THE END
Continue reading for a sneak peek of PAUSE
Sneak peek of PAUSE
PROLOGUE
“What’s wrong?” I ask. Or try to ask. Only my throat is sore and dry, so my voice barely rises above a whisper. Not even swallowing seems to help. “Mom?”
She wipes away the tears in a rush. “Sweetheart.”
Everything in the strange white room seems hazy and insubstantial. I blink repeatedly, trying to clear my view. There’s a vase of fading pink roses sitting on a small side table and I’m hooked up to a drip along with an array of machines. My body is one long, dull, horrible ache. What the hell happened?
“You were in an accident,” says Dad, answering the question I hadn’t yet asked. He rises from a chair in the corner of the room. “Do you remember?”
Before I can answer, Mom’s there with her tremulous smile. “You’ve woken up before, but never for long. You keep going back to sleep.”
None of this makes sense. “What . . .”
“The doctor told us that we have to ask you how you’re feeling and what you can remember,” she says.
“W-wait,” I stutter. “Where’s Ryan?”
They share a worried glance.
“What’s going on?” I ask.
“What do you remember?” Mom perches on the edge of the bed. “How do you feel?”
“Can you move your fingers and toes?” asks Dad.
“I feel confused and frustrated.” I stop to swallow again. Still not helping. “But yes, my fingers and toes are fine.”
Mom rushes to fetch a plastic cup full of water with a straw sticking out for me. I try to take it slow, try to just sip it, but it tastes so good.
“I don’t remember an accident,” I admit once I’m finished.
“Another car hit you and you lost control.”
They both wait for me to react. For recognition to strike. But I’ve got nothing. “When?”
“Let’s wait for the doctor,” says Mom, wringing her hands.
“Just tell me. Please.”
“It’s the fourteenth of February.” Dad straightens his tie in a rare show of nerves. “That’s the date today.”
I frown. “No. No, that can’t be.”
Mom nods, adamant.
“What?” I ask, incredulous.
“Seven Months. Yes,” says Dad.
“It’s a long time to be in a coma. No one thought you’d wake up.” Mom balls up a Kleenex in her hands. “The doctors said . . . it doesn’t matter what they said now. You’re a medical miracle. I knew you’d be okay. My daughter’s a fighter.”
Holy shit.
While none of this makes sense, it’s all too real to be a joke. Not that my parents have much of a sense of humor. But there’s nothing false in my mother’s pained eyes. The last thing I can remember was it being July and we were at home planning a barbeque. Only a summer storm hit on my way to the store, the first