Page 32 of Entwined Hearts
“You like it?”
I looked up at him. “I love it. It’s beautiful.”
His expression softened as he looked at me. “Like you.”
Ignoring the butterflies I felt, I rose to the balls of my feet, finding the incision that ran along the top of his shoulder like a bra strap would. It wasn’t big, maybe two or three inches long.
“Does it hurt?”
“Not as much as it did when I woke up after surgery. Just a few twinges here and there if I move it too fast or pick something up that's too heavy. Rehab is a real pain in the ass, though.”
I arched a brow at him, smirking, and gestured to the lawnmower beside us. “I bet driving doesn’t help it any.”
He chuckled. “The lawnmower hardly counts as driving.”
“Hardly still counts.”
His gaze roamed all over my face, the air growing charged with something that didn’t feel like the tension I felt with him in the alley behind the law firm, but something more. Something familiar; the easiness that we had all those years ago, the comfort that always came when he was near.
I didn’t know what it meant that I felt it with him now, after years apart, when I was technically with someone else. Someone who drifted further and further out of my mind the longer I stood here with Weston.
“It was worth it.”
I chuckled, trying to play off the ache in my heart. “What? Having shorter grass?”
His eyes darted between mine, that dark blue overflowing with feelings. Feelings I was terrified of. Feelings that stirred up my own. “No. Getting bucked from that bull.”
My head reared back, my hand leaving his shoulder. Was he insane? “You can’t possibly mean that, Weston. You could’ve died.”
“I’d do it a thousand times over if it meant I’d have you here talking to me like this.” He turned to face me straight on, his face only a few inches from mine. “I meant what I said at the hospital; I’ve missed you like crazy, Sav. Every day without you has been torture, and I’m sick of living without you.”
I swallowed, my heart racing. “I’ve missed you, too, but it’s not that simple. Things are different now. We’re different people now.”
God, he was going to lose it when he found out about Stewart. Stewart was safe, steady, the logical choice. But standing here with Weston, I wasn’t thinking about logic; I was thinking about how his voice made me feel comforted in a way that no one else had.
“The way I feel about you isn’t any different. And I’m starting to wonder if the way you feel about me isn’t either.”
I wasn’t going to tell him that he wasn’t the only one.
Back inside,I couldn’t focus on anything, lost in the way Weston smiled at me like I was the center of his universe. I stared at the glass he used, at the smudges of his fingertips and the mark of his lips he left behind. I was permanently covered in those smudges and marks. And no matter how hard I scrubbed my skin, Weston would always be there beneath the surface.
My phone rang, and without looking, I answered it. “Hello?”
“Finally.” I froze against the counter at Stewart’s voice.
“Stewart,” I whispered. “Hi.”
“I’ve been trying to get a hold of you for weeks, Savannah. What the hell is going on?”
My eyes drifted shut at the justified anger in his tone. “I told you I needed to go home for a while. My mom was dying, I had to come home and say goodbye.”
“I know, and I’m sorry that she died, I am. But don’t you think I deserve a phone call? I asked you to marry me, and you’ve blown me off for weeks. Nobody from work has heard from you. None of your friends. It’s like you’ve dropped off the face of the earth.”
I chewed on my bottom lip. “I’m just really busy here with my family. We’re grieving.”
“And how much longer exactly are you going to begrieving? I had to go to the Fourth of July gala by myself.”
I scowled at the tile, my grip on the phone tightening. “However long it takes.”
