Page 33 of Right With You
He hummed softly. “This is nice.”
I laughed, and if Dove had been in the room, she would’ve heard the low-key delirium lining the sound, but thank goodness she wasn’t here. Hopefully, Luc couldn’t hear the edge of hysteria as every nerve ending in my body played the maracas.
“It is,” I said, as though I was hardly moved by the contact.
We stayed like this for a while until his thumb arced over my skin in a soothing and yet deeply unsettling movement. The pad of his finger was slightly calloused, and every swipe felt like he was plucking at an ever-tightening string.
My mind played tricks on me. It imagined his hands slowly but surely exploring my wrist first, then the dip of my elbow and up the soft curve of my biceps. It imagined him dropping his mouth to touch his lips to my neck, behind my ear, and?—
“Elise,mon cœur.”
His voice came in a raspy whisper, but then I was shaken awake—a hand on my face startled me enough to open my eyes.
Endless gray-green eyes with that little fleck of a dark freckle to one side waited for me, staring back as I oriented myself to reality and not the dream I’d apparently crafted in a movie-induced sleep.
“I’m so sorry I fell asleep,” I said, then realized my whole body was leaning against him, and my head had likely been on his shoulder.
“Don’t apologize. The movie is over, and I should go.”
The moment hung and some insane part of me thought about saying no, he shouldn’t. Some other more confident woman—a version of me who knew what she wanted and understood what she had to give—that woman would’ve told him to stay.
But this person, the one who’d climbed out of the totaled car that was my relationship with Callum, she was still finding her way. No longer did she suffer from whiplash or aching knees or a bruised heart. It was simply that she didn’t know if she could get in another car—if she’d ever drive again.
She was enjoying riding in a car, though. Not being behind the wheel, perhaps, but taking the ride—and that was why this setup with Luc was perfect. That was why there would be no asking him to stay, but also no brutal emotional fallout when the wheels fell off. I could take the drive as a passenger, let him do the driving of this fake… car? Okay, so the illustration got a bit murky, but the point remained. Wanting Luc wasn’t the hard part. Liking him wasn’t either.
And knowing those feelings would stay tucked away while we took this drive together was what would help me avoid the hard part.
I sat up and brushed my hair from my face. “Alright.” I didn’t want to sound too enthusiastic about it. I wouldn’t have minded dozing here next to him until morning, but that would’ve been confusing, too.
I walked him to the door, wondering if I should apologize again. He slipped his hand into mine and towed me along with him, which made it feel like maybe he wanted me close, and I took that as an answer.
“Thank you for dinner and for the movie,” he said, his voice a little rougher than normal with the late hour. “And for holding my hand.”
He raised our joined hands and pressed a kiss to the back of mine.
My heart swooped low.
“Thank you for coming. And for being patient—for moving slowly.” I hoped he’d understand, and when he nodded, I knew he did.
I’d shared about my mother and he knew about Callum—he’d witnessed it. But somehow, this moment made me feel more vulnerable than I’d ever felt with him. Had I stripped down in the living room and decided to walk him to the door naked?
I might as well have, for all the layers I had to hide behind now.
“I’ll text you in the morning,” he said, turning to go and releasing my hand, but I scrambled to get it back, clutching at his wrist as I said, “Could I hug you?”
Already emotionally bare in a way I hadn’t expected, why not throw myself at his feet? And yet it was all for practice, all couched within the context of fakeness, so the risk felt more bearable than I would’ve guessed. Testing the waters without getting soaked, in a way. Remembering the feel of his hand on mine, on my thigh, it made me wonder what full-body contact with him would be like… And rather than drive this anticipation into levels of crazy restlessness and fuel for my overactive imagination, maybe getting on with it would quell the desire to some degree.
The half-smile tugging at his lips would’ve slayed me, but before I had time to fully register it, he’d slipped his arms around me and pressed me close. Instantly, I wrapped mine around him and stepped even closer, relishing his warmth and the firm planes of his body. He was so muscular and big and safe.
It clicked then.
I didn’t know Luc all that well yet, but I knew he was safe. In ways Callum, despite how well I thought I’d known him, had never been.
What would it be like to be with someone who could be gentle and considerate like this? And why was that such a dreamy proposition instead of a given? I hadn’t lowered my standards in theory, but in reality, my time with Callum had proved what I’d been willing to give up, and that truth burned through me.
If I ever did try with someone again—and I really didn’t anticipate doing that—I’d want it to feel like this. Buzzy with possibility and a little longing, but warm, gentle, and safe.
I pulled away, fully aware my thoughts were taking me places I couldn’t afford for them to go.
