Page 122 of Paper Roses

I get out and look around curiously while he pays the driver. There’s nothing unusual about the street, but my eyes immediately land on a nearby photo booth. It’s painted blue with stickers plastered to it. A black curtain hides its interior. Charmed, I walk closer.

“I’ve heard about these,” I say in delight as Jed takes my hand. “Fotoautomat. They’ve got a bit of a cult following in Berlin. You get several photos taken inside and end up with a souvenir strip of black-and-white shots. That’s cooler than colour, isn’t it?”

“It certainly makes you look younger, and I’ll take all the help I can get.”

I nudge him, looking admiringly at his tall body. “You don’t need any. You’re the sexiest man I’ve ever met, and I have a feeling you’ll only get better as the years pass.”

“Do you mind the big age gap between us?” he asks, hand clutching the mysterious rucksack. “I know I said I wouldn’t mention Mick, but I was a lot younger than him, and it created problems.”

“Did it?” I’m curious about that revelation, but I let my nosiness go. He’ll tell me at another time. I’m sure of that now. I step closer, wanting to ease his worries. I love the way he immediately pulls me against him. No hesitation now—just love and warmth in those sexy green eyes of his.

“No, I don’t care,” I say softly. “I think I was meant for you, and you were meant for me.”

He raises a wry eyebrow. “And it’s that simple?”

“At the centre of everything, yes.” I stare at him. “Does it worry you?”

“It should do.”

“But?” I prompt as he falls silent.

“But I don’t care.” He smiles hesitantly at me. “I’ve learnt that being without you is awful, and I want to spend my life with you as long as I’m given.”

“Oh, don’t talk like that,” I say, distressed.

He murmurs an inarticulate endearment and hugs me close. “I just want you to know that I choose you.”

“And I choose you,” I say. “I think I’m older than I should be, and you’re younger, and we meet in the middle, and it’s what I want, and that willneverchange.” The certainty in my voice seems to settle him, and he smiles at me and drops a kiss on my nose.

“You have to know that you would have been my downfall if you had stopped loving me,” he says solemnly.

“I don’t want that,” I immediately say, my throat tight at the thought that he remembered my words. It’s the way he always remembers things about me. He notices me and takes steps to protect my soft centre, and I now vow to do the same for him. “That won’t happen,” I say sternly. He nods and drops a soft kiss on my lips. When he pulls back, I look at the photo booth again curiously. “Are we here to have our pictures taken?”

“Yes.” He licks his lips. “I want a photo with you.”

I look at him askance. “We could have just taken one in bed and avoided having to get dressed.”

“Artie,” he groans reprovingly. “Don’t give me an inconvenient hard-on.”

I snort. “I won’t. I only want to give you convenient hard-ons from now on.”

We step closer to the booth, and when I read the notice on the side, I laugh. “It says to be quiet after eleven o’clock. What the hell do peopledoin these booths?” I shiver as the wind blows down the street, making my eyes water. “We’re lucky there’s no one waiting. Apparently, there’s usually a queue. The weather must have put people off. Shall we get a picture, then?”

He clutches the rucksack tight and gestures me into the booth. I shoot him a look but obey his urging. The interior is tiny and not meant for men his height, and we break into helpless laughter as we contort ourselves to fit on the small stool together. We finally settle with me in his lap. I slouch down so the camera angle gets both of us.

“Ready?” I ask as he gives me a coin to put in the slot next to me.

He stays my hands. “Wait.”

“Why?”

“I’m going to hold up some papers,” he says, ducking to reach into his bag. He pulls out a sheaf of papers and holds them close to his chest.

“Okay,” I say slowly, desperately wondering what’s written on them.

“And you mustn’t look. Promise me you’ll just smile and not try to read the message.”

“There’s a message?”

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