the place we were conceived.”
“You’re joking.”
“Nope. I wish. How weird is that to tell people when they ask why my name is London?”
“Kind of weird. Better Pittsburg or something.”
I laugh, nodding in agreement.
“I’m glad I know,” he says softly.
“Me too. You know a lot about me now.”
“I like that I know you prefer bacon over sausage. I like that I know you drown your pancakes in syrup. I like that today is the start of your favorite holiday, and I hate that I can’t get you up to be with your family on it.”
That makes two of us.
I roll over in his arms, kissing his prickly jaw and pushing thoughts of Christmas Eve with my family out of my mind. It doesn’t help to dwell on things I can’t change. That shit just drives you mad. All you can do is face another day and take it as it comes.
I’m learning that.
The hard way.
“What’s on tap for today?”
His face buries into the crook of my shoulder, kissing a sweet trail that sends sparks of fire through my body, straight down to my core. “After I’m done making you scream my name, I thought I’d make breakfast. Then I have some things I need to work on in my shop.”
“That’s fine,” I tell him because he sounds a bit nervous as he says that last part, though I don’t know why. I’m the interloper in his house. “I have work I need to do myself.”
And that’s when his mouth covers mine. That’s when he tells me every dirty thought and fantasy that floats through his head. That’s when he slowly rises up, pressing all his weight into his hands, staring straight into my eyes, and sliding inside my body.
I surrender to him. I’m not sure I have any choice in the matter.
I could fool myself and spew things out like it’s just sex or a connected history or despair over not being with my family for the holiday we all look forward to spending together.
But it would be a lie.
This thing goes deeper than that, and as his hand holds my face steady and his eyes pierce mine and his body claims what’s left of me, I know the truth. And I do nothing to hide it from him. Let him make of that as he will.
Chapter Seventeen
MILES
After London and I finish our breakfast, she settles in on the sofa in the solarium, laptop set on her lap, Betsy at her feet, the fire roaring and the space heater going. She doesn’t waste any time jumping right back into whatever it is she’s working on, so I sneak off into my studio.
The generator is still chugging along since the power hasn’t come back on yet, but all that means in here is that it’s not as bright as it typically would be.
I check the pieces that have been annealing in the long-term kiln, including the piece London and I made yesterday. The generator here is great, but not as powerful for this kiln as when I have power. It needs another day, but I’m hoping I can give it to her before we leave to drive her up to her parents’ tomorrow. Not sure if that will work out or not.
The heaviest of the snow I think is behind us, and by this evening, it’s supposed to be stopped altogether. It makes me antsy. It makes me unsettled and I can’t stand this. She invited me to go with her, and I’m not sure what to do about that.
Do I pack a bag and stay? Celebrate Christmas with her family, a family who does not know me and very well likely might not approve?
Sure, I’ve come a long way from the kid growing up in the system.
I have a successful business. I make a very good living.
But London’s family is so far out of my league. The fact that London has been here with me floors me. Wildest dreams and greatest fantasy come to life.
And part of me knows that the longer I hold on to her, the harder the fall when it’s over.
That’s how I went into this yesterday. Before I touched or kissed her. I didn’t want to regret the time with her, not making a move, knowing full well that this is only a temporary situation.
But now yesterday feels like years ago and tomorrow feels imminent.
My plan was to fight for her. Until I realized fighting for her isn’t exactly fair. What am I asking for? I can’t