Page 84 of It Happened on a Sunday
She looks different with her makeup off. Younger. Softer. But no less beautiful.
Same brown eyes.
Same lush red hair.
Same flawless skin, though now I can see the scattering of freckles across her nose and cheeks. It makes me wonder about all the other places she has freckles and if they’ll taste as sweet as she did in the observatory this afternoon.
“Corazón.” I don’t even bother trying to stop the slow smile taking over my face. “Eres un alivio para el alma.”
Sloane gives me a teasing grin. “I don’t know what that means, but I like the sound of it.”
“In English, people say, ‘You’re a sight for sore eyes.’” I think about leaving it at that, even though the phrasing in Spanish translates a little differently. But I spoke to her in Spanishbecause those are the words I meant. It seems like a copout to hedge my bets now. “In Spanish, they say ‘You’re a relief to the soul.’”
Sloane’s eyes widen at the words before she ducks her head, hiding her pink cheeks behind her hair.
My chest tightens at the sight—this global icon, this woman who commands arenas with a single breath, going shy because I told her the truth.
And God, if she only knew… If she only saw herself the way I see her. Not just beautiful butradiant.Not just a relief to my soul buta balm for every broken piece of me.
I want to get to know this woman with the pink cheeks. The truth is, I want to get to know all the Sloanes—the Black Widow, the songwriter, the performer, the woman she keeps hidden behind a wall. I want to know them all because I want to know the real her.
And I wantherto know that all those pieces of her—polished and raw, dressed up and unvarnished—only make her more radiant.
I start to tell her as much, then decide to wait and see what she does. Where she decides she wants to take this.
It’s hard for me to sit back and wait, to not try to fill the silence and make things as easy for her as I possibly can. But I don’t. Instead, I wait as patiently as I can manage for her to look back up at me, her big, brown eyes filled with the kind of fear you only get when you’re starting to want something too much.
I recognize it because I saw that same look in my own eyes when I got back to my room tonight.
“Your last text…” She pauses, her eyes swimming with a thousand secrets.
Fuck. I pushed too hard, pushed too fast. I start to tell her it doesn’t matter, that all I want is what she’s comfortable giving.
But then she whispers, “I don’t know how much of me there’sleft to offer, Mateo. I’m just a bunch of jagged pieces held together by glitter and eyelash glue.”
My heart breaks at her words. I hate that she feels that way. Hate even more that it might be true. But all I say is, “Aren’t we all? I mean, I’m more a superglue guy myself, but even that shit cracks under pressure.” I wait for her smile to flash before I continue. “That doesn’t mean the pieces aren’t worth holding on to.”
She looks away, and I can tell she’s pulling back again. So I take a risk and meet her where she is. “You don’t have to be picture perfect for me to want you. You just have to be here. With me. In whatever way feels good to you. That’s all I ask.”
“You ask a lot,” she whispers, and my heart falls. But then she adds, “I’ll try. That’s all I can promise you.”
“It’s enough,corazón. More than enough.”
Once again, silence fills the space between us. At least until Sloane clears her throat and says, “I’m pretty sure this must be the worst phone sex in the history of the world.”
I freeze at her words, my mind going completely blank even as she stares at me expectantly. “I…have absolutely no idea what to say to that,” I finally admit.
“That’s why I called, you know. I was sitting here in my hotel room, thinking about you and feeling all kinds of things I haven’t felt in a really long time, and—” She breaks off with a laugh and a little shake of her head. “I just wanted…”
“What?” I ask, heart in my throat. “What did you want?”
“You,” she finally whispers. “I just want you, Mateo.”
She says it so quietly I almost miss it. But I don’t, and the words land in my chest like a promise I didn’t dare hope for.
For a second, I can’t breathe. Because those are the exact five words I’ve been waiting to hear.I just want you, Mateo.
I catch her gaze with my own and hold it through the screen as I tell her, “I don’t know what you’re talking about. Because thisjust became the best phone sex in the history of the world.”
