Page 99 of Napkins and Other Distractions
“You are something else,” he says. “You know that.”
My heartbeat ramps up, and the warmth from Kent’s embrace envelops me. Sharing this with him is a big deal. He’s interested. Curious. Patient.
“There are plates, baseplates, jumper plates, even cheese graters,” I say, “but let’s go slow.”
Pulling back, Kent’s fingers find my chin and pull my focus. His pupils study my face, and a tender smile pokes through his beard.
“I love you, Vincent.”
Tears prickle my eyes. Even before the words left his mouth, I felt it. From him. For him. How do you define something you’ve never felt? You experience it, and then someone presents you with the vocabulary. Kent’s helped me grasp the true meaning of the word, and maybe, just maybe, even with all my imperfections, he actually means it.
If I could peer inside my torso, I imagine my heart glows with a soft, pulsating light. Radiating a warmth, an energy. I’m rarely comfortable in my own skin. I’m unsure of almost everything. But with Kent, I’m grounded. Safe. Cherished. Open.
I lean into Kent. My lips brush his and I pull back and meet his gaze. “I love you, too.”
CHAPTER 32
Kent
“There’s my kitty boy.”
Sweetums, perched on my kitchen island, stares intensely as I walk toward him. His body retracts like he’s pondering bolting away, but I snag him first, pulling him close and kissing his head.
“Did you miss me? I missed you.”
And I did. After an hour of unpacking, sorting, and preparing to build the LEGO Louvre, Vincent, spurred by my incessant yawning, stopped us and took me to bed. After twenty minutes of phenomenal kissing and cuddling, I dozed off. Gosh, how I’ve missed sleeping with someone in my arms. After the twenty-year mark, Corrine and I drifted to opposite ends of the bed with only occasional cuddles. Vincent craves to be right next to me. Like his life depends on it. His skin on mine. Swapping between big and little spoons all night.
My eyes flew open just before dawn, and as I lay next to Vincent, I couldn’t help but watch him sleep. His lips parted a tiny bit, eyes closed, and those gorgeous lashes on full display as I studied this sweet man. I hadn’t planned to tell him I love him. It just happened. There was no stopping it. Like a bud on a tree in spring—a force of nature. I said it because I needed him to know. There was no expectation for him to say it back. But he did. So quickly. His words bloomed like a blossom on the bud. Hoped for, but never taken for granted.
My phone vibrates in my pocket. Trying to balance Sweetums while removing it proves trickier than I thought. With a sudden burst of energy, he wriggles and jumps onto the sofa, and I lose my balance and crash onto the unforgiving wood floor.
I accept the call, lift the phone to my ear, and sigh.
“Dad, you there?”
As usual, Gillian’s voice sounds slightly chaotic, frantic, and frazzled. Corrine swears she gets it from me.
“Lia, cheese goes in yourmouth, not on the wall!”
“Cheese painting?”
“I want to nurture her artistic side, but not everything takes the place of paint.”
“Go, tend to your little artist.” I push myself up off the floor and move to the sofa, grateful for the soft cushion under my tush. “If you don’t intervene, all you’ll be left with is de brie.”
“De what?”
“De brie. Brie? Get it?”
Gillian groans, but I know she cherishes my dad jokes.
“Go, call me back.”
“No, I do not want to call you back. I want to talk now, and if Lia can’t paint nicely, then ‘NO CHEESE,’” she yells, and I momentarily pull the phone away from my face.
“How are you?” she asks, forcing sweetness.
“Good, just running home to check on Sweetums, grab a few more things, and then back to Vincent’s.”
