Page 97 of Unspoken Confessions
We were back in Atlanta.
We.
Yes.
You read that right.
Nick had pretty much moved in with me even if that fact had never been said out loud. Into my house, by the way, which I had basically started thinking of it as ours the first night he slept over. Currently, his big house was sitting vacant. I had a feeling he was going to put it up on the market soon. He had to fly out often, but so did I. Sometimes we’d be home together for days at a time, sometimes we’d just get a few hours. Which I think made these moments even more special.
I stood at the entrance to the kitchen. He was naked as the day he was born, that hot ass poking out at me as he bent over to inspect everything in the fridge.
“Add hummus to the list,” he called out, probably thinking that I was still in the bedroom. “And juice.”
He shifted like he was searching for something that clearly wasn’t there. Probably because he’d finished off the bottle of honey mustard earlier in the day. I was always a little amused and grossed out every time he titled his head back and rewarded himself with a mouthful of the stuff. Nope, he hadn’t been lying about his love of it.
“Why isn’t there anything I want in here,” he mumbled and I couldn’t hold in the chuckle.
With a gasp, he quickly spun around to face me.
“What is wrong with you?!” he yelled.
That only caused me to let out a loud laugh.
I walked over and wrapped him in my arms. The cool air rushed out of the wide-open refrigerator door, bringing a chill to my still sweaty skin.
“Don’t forget to add those things to the list,” he said sternly but the look on his face told me I had him in the palm of my hand. He was seconds away from forgetting everything he’d just said. “Seriously, get your phone now. I’ll be mad if we leave the grocery store tomorrow without hummus—”
“And juice,” I cut in. “I got it.”
There was a small chance I would forget because I had no intention of letting him go in order to find my phone and add that shit to the list. And there was a small chance he’d be mad about it too. But, lucky for me, I knew multiple ways to get him to forgive me.
I never thought I’d get this again.
Love.
You know, the kind of love that was powerful because it was there even in the small moments. It was there even after the initial burst of lust and attraction and newness. It was there, lingering in the background, even when your head was somewhere else. It was normal and real. And every day we settled more into a life that melded together.
He might have been Mr. Movie Star— that was currently on a break right now, but the title still fit— but he craved a calm, quiet life just like I did. He wanted normal and I silently promised to give him as many of those moments as possible.
“Want me to run out and get you something?” I offered though I was in no hurry to break away from his warm body, put on clothes, and leave the house.
“Fuck no,” he barked. Yep, he was as eager for me to cover up as I was. “I want to grab something and get back in bed and finish that documentary you made me watch. I was really getting into it, you know?”
“So sorry I distracted you,” I said with a roll of my eyes.
“No you’re not,” he said with a laugh.
He broke away from me, shut the fridge door, then grabbed my hand. As we crossed the kitchen, he paused long enough at the pantry to reach in and grab something, then he was dragging me back through the house again.
Once we were back in bed, with me sitting up leaning against the headboard and him tucked against me while he shoved handfuls of trail mix into his mouth, I started the documentary up again. Good thing I thought to pause it before I pounced on him.
“Oh, and while we’re out, we should stop by that new wine store. I want to grab a nice bottle for dinner at Jen’s aunt’s house next week.”
I smiled at how casual he sounded. I liked making plans with him. Simple, everyday plans. Ones that really had no meaning but they kind of did to us.
His attention turned to me when I didn’t say anything in response.
“What?” he asked looking at me like I was being weird.
