Page 73 of Connor

I can’t help the grin that comes to my face as my heart expands and a feeling of complete joy wraps around me.

“Are you sure? I mean, we haven’t known each other long. I know people keep things casual for a while before…” I start, because even though I’ve never been someone's girlfriend, I do know through most men I meet that they like to keep things casual for a long time. They never like to discuss commitment of any kind. Not with me, anyway.

“If it’s alright with you, when we go back to Whispers, I’m telling everyone who will listen that you’re mine.”

We’re doing this. He feels the same. I had no idea something this good was waiting for me. It’s so true what they say, that you need to kiss a few frogs before you find your prince. And I think I may have finally found mine.

“Are you sure?” I offer, giving him an out. My brain is fighting with itself. One half of me wants to jump up and down, tell him that I’m falling for him, that I want to be his. The other is trying to preserve my heart, knowing how much pain I’m going to be in if this doesn’t work out.

“Yes, very sure, Daisy. I want us to be exclusive.”

I lift my head up and look at him. I’m wide-eyed, and as the silence becomes deafening, I will my mouth to talk and sayyes!But it doesn’t, and he looks at me seriously, seemingly becoming a bit nervous himself at my reaction.

“If you have someone else here in the city or someone who you were seeing before you moved to Whispers who you’re not over, you need to let me know, because I need to tell them that you’re no longer theirs.” He says it so seriously I think I might faint. The butterflies he elicits are rampaging my insides.

“Yours?” I ask tentatively, looking into his eyes.

He nods, his gaze searing into mine. “Mine, baby girl. All mine.”

“I’m not anybody else’s but yours, Connor Whiteman,” I confirm, and he smiles, releasing a breath.

“Good. Seems like our frequencies are in alignment, then,” he adds simply, and I burst out a laugh.

“Seems like it.” As I giggle against him, he lifts up, kissing me tenderly, like he’s ensuring I know exactly how he feels. And I do. I can feel it. It isn’t my imagination. It isn’t a casual thing. What we have, what we’re feeling, is strong. For both of us.

As we pull away, I lie back down, and his hand goes back to caressing my arm.

“Did you know your mom’s old commune is somewhere near Whispers?” he asks me. I lift my head, resting my chin on his chest to look at him.

“Yeah. I have no idea where. I’d like to go and find it actually, so I can get some insight into her upbringing. Learn a bit about my family history,” I tell him honestly, grinning as I ponder that possibility, but he’s frowning.

“I don’t think that’s a good idea.” His tone is careful, like he doesn’t want to upset me.

“Why not?” I can feel my lips pulling into a pout. “It’ll just be a day trip. You know, to look around, maybe say hi to some of her old friends,” I tell him as I warm up to the idea even more.

“People who live in those kinds of places generally like to keep to themselves. Your dad mentioned it to me this afternoon. He said it probably wasn’t smart to go looking for them. They don’t often welcome strangers.”

I think over his words for a moment, taking into consideration that my dad had something to say about it. “Well, I’m technically not a stranger…” I murmur, but his creased brows don’t smooth out just yet.

“From what I understand, your mom left a long time ago. They probably don’t even know that she had a child. Best to leave the past where it is, I think,” he offers, and I take a deep breath.

I sigh. “Yeah, maybe.”

He’s right, of course. I would never go and just turn up, unannounced. But I do like the idea of learning more about that way of life and more about my mom’s childhood.

“Can’t you just give your mom a truth tea or something?” he asks, and I lift my head, looking at him with confusion.

“Truth tea?” I question, my smile growing as I try not to laugh.

“Yeah. You have tea for everything else. Can’t you make something that has people telling the truth from the first sip they take?” He’s grinning now, clearly teasing me.

“I think that’s called whiskey… If I gave you such a tea, what would the first true thing be that comes from your lips, Mr. Whiteman?” I ask playfully.

“Hmm, maybe you need to make it for me and find out.”

I laugh as his hands grab my waist and roll me onto my back, and he lowers on top of me, settling between my legs to remind me yet again how good we are together.

35

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