skin next to mine, to feel our connection in its most concentrated form.
“I don’t know how you like your coffee.”
“How do you know that I even like coffee?” I grinned at him.
“You’re mine. Therefore, I know. The specifics are fun to learn.”
A quiet moment passed between us. When he said those words, you’re mine, it was as though he was telling me he loved me, in his own way. It was as if he had been saying them forever. But that still didn’t stop me from melting each time he did.
“With sugar,” I finally answered. “And a lot of milk.”
“Café au lait.”
“Mmm, café au lait. Which in French translates to ‘coffee with milk,’ but I’d rather milk with coffee.”
He took my hand and helped me to a sitting position. Then he handed me the mug. I took it and thanked him in French—merci beaucoup. When the first hot rush reached my tongue, I said, “Mon ange,” and closed my eyes, savoring the taste of it. He had made it just the way I enjoyed it.
His hand moved to my knee. He squeezed. “Tell me what that means.”
I smiled into my cup. “My angel.”
A thoughtful look crossed his face. “How many languages can you speak, Scarlett?”
“I’m fluent in French, Spanish, Portuguese, Romanian, German, Italian—but not Sicilian—” I waved a hand “—I could never master the language. Slovenian, of course; Maja’s—Grandmother Kumar’s—first language. I also have some Slavic, some Russian, and some Latin. I understand the words better than I can communicate them.” I shrugged, taking a sip of my coffee.
“Age is just a number.” His grip on my knee eased.
He turned away from me, staring into the light. His eyes softened to a lighter shade of brown with the heat, a color close to dark honey. He seemed to be pondering something. With his mind made up, his mood shifted, and I longed to change it.
“What was the second occurrence?” I nudged him with my knee to get his attention.
He turned back to me, his brows furrowed. “The second occurrence.”
“You said two things occurred to you while you were making coffee,” I reminded him.
He stared at me a moment before his forehead smoothed and his eyebrows relaxed. “We’re good here. Just us.”
I took a long drink and then set the mug on the table beside the bed. I took his hands and entwined them with mine. “You mean without the mess of parties, boys, and alcohol.”
He brought both of my hands to his mouth, kissing each. His warm breath flowed over my skin when he exhaled. “Yeah. You try to be someone you’re not. I don’t like it.”
“What is that supposed to mean?” I went to unlace our hands but he held tight.
“When you’re faced with the world, you change to accommodate. When it’s us, you’re you. Your face when Amy made that remark about you cooking for me told me all I needed to know.”
I traced the pattern of his camouflage pants with my fingernail. “It did. She made me feel...” Hot blood burned my cheeks. “She made me feel old, but not in the good sense. I’ve seen the world, Brando. I’ve done things that most people my age have never done. But I’m not good at this.” I moved our hands back and forth between us, looking to the side, refusing to meet his eyes.
“I grew up to believe that my life was headed in a certain direction. What most take for granted, normal, is new to me. After Elliott died, I locked myself up. But I didn’t have the added bonus of traveling or losing myself to dance like I had done numerous times before—I refused all that I knew. So I ended up with nothing. Elliott had always been the only normal in my life. Until you.”
After some time, I glanced up at him, and his mood had infiltrated his eyes—dangerous. His jaw ticked. Reading his moods came easier; those subtle nuisances were easy enough to learn. Though when the pendulum swung to darkness, it couldn’t be described as delicate.
“Nothing.” He said, his voice full of conviction. “Never fucking nothing. Do you understand me? You had me. You’ll always have me.”
“I—” I had to take a deep breath. “I know that now.”
He unlaced our hands and tugged on the edge of my braid. He settled the smaller pieces that had broken loose during the night into their rightful places, and then he released the band.
My hair fell well past my breasts, even when wavy. Without looking,