Page 29 of Monsters, Vows, and Growls
Patrick chuckled, making me realize that I wanted to hear that sound again. Maybe a thousand more times. Gently, I set the spoon down, trying not to let my fingers shake. The night had slipped into that golden quiet—the kind where time didn’tmatter and every glance felt like a question waiting to be answered.
He leaned back in his chair, wineglass cradled in one hand, and looked at me in a way that said he could look at me forever. And I… I kind of wanted him to. Which was a terrifying thought.
“So,” he said, voice soft now, “was it worth it?”
I tilted my head, pretending to think. “The bread, yes. The lasagna, absolutely. The chocolate cake sealed the deal.”
“But?”
I hesitated. “But… it’s not the food that scares me.”
He didn’t say anything, just waited—steady and quiet, like he knew not to push this time. I took another sip of wine. “It’s how easy it is to be here with you. How comfortable. How familiar. Like no time has passed. Like I never had to stitch myself back together.”
His jaw tightened slightly. “I’m sorry.”
“I know.”
Silence fell again, but it didn’t feel empty.
It feltfull.
“I’ve missed you,” he said finally. “Every version of you. But especially this one.”
My throat tightened. Before I could respond, a breeze stirred the candle flames, and one flickered out, plunging half the table in shadow. Patrick stood and stepped around the table, grabbing a lighter from the basket. He lit it again, but didn’t sit back down. Instead, he offered me a hand. “Come on.”
I stared at it. “Where?”
He grinned. “Over there.”
He gestured toward the firepit in the clearing’s corner. It was already glowing, low and warm, throwing soft amber light over the little stack of folded blankets.
“I’m not slow dancing in the woods,” I said, even as my hand moved toward his.
“I didn’t say anything about dancing,” he replied. “But for the record, I have it on good authority that I’m excellent at it.”
“Who told you that?”
“You. Junior prom. Two glasses of sparkling apple cider and a slow song later, you told me I was shockingly coordinated.”
“God, that dress was hideous.”
“You wore it like it was couture.”
“You kissed me behind the bleachers.”
“Best three minutes of my life.”
I rolled my eyes, laughing as I stood. “You really haven’t changed that much.”
He tugged me gently closer. “No. Just enough.”
We walked to the fire, and, from out of nowhere, soft music started to play.You Are the ReasonbyCalum Scott. Our song. Tears stung my eyes, and as if in a trance, I allowed Patrick to pull me into his strong arms. So different from ten years ago, and yet so achingly familiar. I leaned into his chest, listened tothe soft drum of his heart, felt his strength surrounding me, and it was as if time had reversed.
It was us.
Then.
Now.
