Page 91 of Almost Perfect
“I—” My phone buzzed. “Ugh, sorry. It’s Kristoffer.”
“Better answer.”
“Sorry.” I answered the call. “Hey, Kristoffer. Just landed. What’s up?”
And he caught me up on everything I’d missed in the last few hours, which was both not essential and good timing. I didn’t want to deal with this now, when I’d just been reunited with Wyatt, but I also desperately needed to be left alone for the next day and knew Kristoffer required this download before I “disappeared into the mountains” as I’d done before.
Granted, I’d spoken or communicated in some way with him every day I’d been in Utah the last few months, but I’d waited about forty-eight hours, through the worst of my crying jags, before I’d been willing to respond to him, and then I’d only done e-mail and text for the first week. Apparently, he hadn’t forgotten about that.
As we pulled into the All Saints Farm entrance, I hung up and let out a sigh.
“Everything okay?”
He couldn’t study me the way I guessed he wanted to, but I felt every bit of attention he could safely give me while he drove.
He’d been so quiet, so patient. Not that this was news, but in much the same way it had every other time I’d even thought about Wyatt in the last few days, my heart gave a glowy ache in my chest. The phone call behind me, and the flight and road done too, my heart rate picked up the closer we inched to his house.
“It’s fine. Rad’s suing and has no grounds. My lawyers will destroy him now that we’ve gotten proof. It’s just a matter of how scorched earth he’s going to go before they do.”
He had plenty of personal information about me, but at this point, I wasn’t sure I cared if any more of it got released. He could tell people Bri and I were fake, sure, but since he’d already claimed to have cheated with me, I hoped he didn’t think he could market that conflicting lie, but who knew.
Wyatt pulled into the garage, turned off the ignition, and looked at me. “You’re amazing.”
Urgency hit me then, just like the cold air had. No one in my life up to this point would’ve responded that way. They might ask for more details or say, “I don’t know how you do it,” or maybe they’d rail against Rad like my girlfriends had. And I didn’t mind any of that too much, except his response was so much better.
And it was emblematic of why I loved him. Not that he thought I was amazing, but that his response had to do with me, fully, and not something he thought I wanted to hear or was even just his gut response. It was measured and thoughtful and real.
“Let’s get inside,” I said, my voice shaking as I shoved open the door, hauled my bag out behind me, and made it to the garage entrance into his house first.
“Can’t wait to see the place again, huh?” he joked, giving me a quizzical look.
I reached for and took his hand in mine when he got close enough, just inside the house. “No. I’ve missed you, and we’re alone now, right?”
He blinked, and it seemed to hit him. What I meant. Why it mattered we were alone. “Yes. Warrick’s in town ’til tomorrow.”
And then, we ignited.
His kiss answered my urgent one, his hands stripping me of bag, then jacket, then shirt, his mouth traveling down my neck as my hands slipped up his glorious torso. And all sense of dread, of some task I had to manage, flew from my mind. All hints of impending doom awaiting me, that return to normal life I had to face but just couldn’t, disintegrated in the face of our heat.
Only Wyatt, Wyatt, Wyatt filled my mind.
FORTY
Wyatt
Hours after she’d arrived, bellies full of dinner and bodies exhausted from our reunion, we lay side by side on my overstuffed couch. I hadn’t stopped marveling at how good it felt to be with her now that I knew I loved her. I hadn’t said it yet, but now that we were talking, I could feel it coming. We still had a lot to talk about—we’d hardly said much of anything the last few hours, and the time had come.
“Did I tell you how much I missed this couch while I was gone?” She petted the soft light brown material next to my shoulder.
“No, you didn’t.”
“I did. The couch in my living room isn’t nearly this comfortable.”
Here was an opening of sorts. I’d been waiting for her to bring it up—to want to talk about how she’d been gone for almost five days, and how she’d come back with just one small carry-on bag. I hadn’t gone into her place here, but she’d left with one very full suitcase. She could have plenty more stuff at the cottage, of course, but I had no idea whether she planned to stay with me on my couch or go back to the cottage. And then, for how long?
“Then I’m glad you’re back here with me even more.”
I didn’t want to force it. I’d planned to ease into such a discussion on the ride from the airport, but then she’d needed to make a call. After that, we… got distracted. During dinner, she’d updated me on what was happening with her lawyers and some things she’d heard post-interview. She’d told me a little more about Jenna and mentioned going to dinner with Quinn, Sarah, and Dahlia tomorrow.
