Page 77 of Until Next Time
I don’t miss the way her eyes light up and then slowly dim when she begins to doubt herself.
“Don’t do that.”
She just smiles at me, “do what?”
“Don’t doubt yourself. You’re the most creative person I know. You’ve got this. And you’re not an imposter. Like, not even close. Nobody could hold a candle to you and your talent.”
She tosses her hair over her shoulder in a mock-brag way. “Wow, you’re like so obsessed with me, aren’t you?”
She’s teasing me with a giggle, but she’s right.
“I am.” I say, pulling her face to mine.
“Fucking obsessed.” I add, and she swings one leg over my lap so that she’s straddling me.
The smell of her perfume and the softness of her skin is enough to drive me mad, but when she’s on my lap like this, it’s when I feel the most weak. Like I’m not going to be able to honor this vow I’ve made to myself.
Marry her, then make love to her for the rest of my life.
I’ve had her ring in my bedside table for a week now, and I even asked for her dad’s blessing a couple days ago. It’s old school, but it’s romantic, and I know she won’t admit it, but I know she’d rather be married first. She’s told me plenty of timesthat she’s ready, but if we’ve waited this long, I want to make sure she’s all mine, and that I’m her firstandher last.
Birdie rolls her hips against me, and I know she can feel how hard I am. I pull her down on me, and her lips part just enough for my tongue to sweep inside. We move like waves, perfectly in sync, spilling over with longing. It’s like every year we spent yearning for each other is being released every time we’re intertwined like this.
“Thank you” She says into my mouth, breathily.
“For what?”
She pulls her lips to my cheek and kisses me there. “For the man that you are.”
41
Birdie
I’ve always loved romance. Everything to do with it, and anything that glorified it. Ever since I read my first romance novel I was enraptured and I wanted to love something so much orbe lovedthat much that I could tell a story as convincing and beautiful as so many before me.
My first love was Nora Robert’s. The way she’d describe and set every scene so perfectly, I’d be instantly transported. So many of her stories live in my mind as if I’ve visited those places myself and the stories written are actually mine.
This is the first time in my life that I feel like I’m properly inspired—and it’s absolutely because of Dawsen Jones and the man that he is.
There are two real life tropes I seem to be actually living in. The first is that of the ‘brother’s best friend’—which is always a winner. The second trope I fell head first into, the insta-love,which just so happens to be my least favorite trope to read about, but I must say—I recommend it in real life.
Although, I guess you could argue that it wasn’tthatinstant, considering the secret decades long crushes, but that’s besides the point.
I’ve been in my writing cave almost every single day for the past three weeks. Dawsen makes sure there’s a fresh pot of coffee made every morning before he heads down to work. By the time I arrive, it’s brewed, a mug is set out for me and it’s always accompanied by a sticky note with something scrawled across it. I’ve look forward to it every morning.
I’ve started collecting them in a tiny little sticky note book in the top drawer of my desk.
Dawsen will occasionally send me an email with a small design task for the winery, but nothing that qualifies me to be taking home the paychecks he’s giving to me, but every time I push back, he won’t even hear it.
For the most part, I spend all day chipping away at my novel. Which still feels crazy to say, but in just three weeks, I’ve cranked out sixty thousand words.
I’ll write until Dawsen comes upstairs for the night. He usually brings me a glass of wine and then whips up something for dinner. We’ve been binging old seasons of Survivor while we eat and this life just feels like a dream.
I’ve loved being holed up in my writing cave, but it’s time to take a little breather.
River had the idea to go stay at a cabin just outside of town with some friends, and as much as I wanted to keep my head down and keep writing, a getaway with Dawsen sounds incredible.
Mountain views, cozy fireplace snuggles, late night chats with Casey. I think it’s just what I need actually.
