Page 107 of Code Word
“Sleep,” I murmured. “Just like this.”
“M’kay,” he whispered.
I closed my eyes, the happiest I ever remembered being.
SIXTEEN
I wokeup half expecting Luke to be out of bed. But he wasn’t. He was on his stomach, arms splayed, the sunrise casting beams across his back, golden skin, and tousled hair.
His eyelashes, stubble, and pouting lips . . .
My heart bloomed at the sight of him. Utter perfection.
It made me feel giddy. Which was the most ridiculous thing ever. And I had the burning urge to hold him, snuggle in, and never let him go.
I wanted to touch him forever.
He opened his eyes, barely, saw me watching him, and cracked a smile. He mumbled something I didn’t quite catch. So freaking adorable.
“Stay here,” I said, leaning in to kiss his forehead. “I’m gonna cook us breakfast.”
I don’t know why I suggested that. I was hungry, sure. But I had a sudden and strong urge to do things for him. All the things. Everything.
I wanted to make him happy.
I got out of bed, testing my knee. It was actually pretty good. So I took a pit stop in the bathroom first, pulled onsome boardshorts, then took the stairs one careful and slow step at a time.
I made us coffee first, found some eggs and bacon, and opened the patio doors to let in the fresh morning salt air and the sounds of birds and waves.
Is this what love is?
I felt so ridiculous. Like a freaking Disney princess. Except I was a Disney princess that sucked at cooking. The bacon was a bit too crispy, the sunny-side-up eggs became scrambled eggs in the pan, and the toast was mistimed.
But Luke came down, walked straight up to me for a hug. He was still sleepy and so fucking cute. “Smells good.”
“I wanted it to be perfect,” I said. “But?—”
“It’s all perfect,” he said, picking up a piece of bacon and biting into it.
I held a piece of toast up to his mouth and he bit into that too, smiling. Then he sipped his coffee and studied me for a second. “What?” he asked. “You’re looking at me weird.”
I shook my head, feeling all kinds of stupid. “I fucking love you,” I said. “It’s absurd, being this happy. Like honestly, what the fuck.”
He laughed, his cheeks pink. “It doesn’t feel real.”
“Well, it is,” I said with complete certainty. “Now, eat your cremated bacon and cold toast.”
He snorted. “Ah, there’s the reality.”
We ate between shy smiles, and damn, if that giddy feeling didn’t go away.
“What did you want to do today?” he asked as we finished cleaning up.
“I want to sit out on the patio and write songs with you.”
He grinned, his gaze holding mine for a beat. “Sounds good. How’s your knee feeling?”
“It’s feeling a bit better. Another day of rest will do it good. Maybe we could look at some real estate websites.”
