Page 60 of Unexpected Company
Garrett
The fire crackles and music flows from the speaker of the silver CD player on the side table. I push away from the desk and look out the window. A light blanket of snow coats the woodland outside, grey clouds hanging heavy in the sky above.
It’s two days before Christmas and I’m alone in the cottage. The same one Roman and I have stayed in multiple times a year since first meeting here.
Traipsing into the kitchen, I check the time on the clock above the door, then open the fridge, survey the contents and close it again. Everything I need for tonight’s meal is prepared. Shepherd’s pie. A garden salad. Strawberry sherry trifle.
Going out onto the deck, I wave my hand through the warm water of the hot tub, noticing the candles I lit are still burning and the two towels and champagne glasses are as I left them.
Five minutes have passed when I return to the kitchen. I sit on the stool and tap my foot to an unknown beat, looking out the window and then at my hands resting on my lap. A very important question burns on the tip of my tongue, excitement, nervousness and longing whirling inside me.
When the sound of a car door slamming shut reverberates through the room, I jump out of my seat and head to the front of the cottage.
Roman is barely through the door when my hands are on him. It’s been too fucking long and I take a moment to taste and breathe him in. The comfort only he can bring me, settling in my soul.
“Gare,” he whimpers as our mouths collide in a kiss that is full of longing and love. Roman drops his bag at our feet, his empty hands grappling at my cardigan. He fists the fabric, tilting his head and deepening the kiss.
With my hands on his sides, I hoist him up and he wraps his legs around my waist. Without parting our lips, I guide us to the bedroom where I settle Roman on his feet at the foot of the bed.
The curtains are open, the fading daylight streaming in through cracks in the clouds and casting the room in a soft glow.
“Missed you, sweet thing,” I mumble against his skin, trailing my lips along his cheek and down his neck. Roman sways on his feet, pressing closer.
Being apart from Roman never gets easier, but this last week was the longest we’ve been separated since we met all those Christmases ago. He had a charity event to attend in America, and because of an important meeting with my publisher, I couldn’t go with him. We agreed to meet here at the cottage where we will spend Christmas and New Year’s.
“Missed you too, my love,” he says.
I kiss his lips again, then along his cheek and to the soft skin behind his ear. With my mouth on him, I undo his coat and pull it down his arms, depositing it on the floor. Then I work his hoodie over his head, continuing my kisses to dip in his collarbone and over to the other side. He shivers, his hands drawing patterns on my shoulders.
Dropping to my knees, I push up his tee and place open-mouthed kisses in a line across his stomach. Roman cards his hands into my hair, tangling them with the long strands.
“If this is the welcome I get, I should go away more often,” he jokes.
“No,” I grumble, scratching my beard over the smooth expanse of skin, the way I know he likes. “Our home is too lonely without you.”
He chuckles, his fingers scraping over my scalp, sending shivers nipping down my spine. “That’s why we have Rory,” he muses, referring to the golden retriever puppy he bought me for my birthday. She is good company, but in the three years that we’ve been together, Roman and I have become exceptionally codependent. I fucking love it.
I love his neediness. I love how much he desires to be held and cared for. I love that he’s never quiet and that he leaves half-drunk mugs of tea and biscuit crumbs all over the house.
I love everything about this man.
My hands map Roman’s lower back, my fingers sliding along his dimples then dropping to squeeze his ass. I nuzzle against the fabric that’s fallen back over his stomach before sitting back on my heels and peering up at him.
Roman’s cheeks are pink-stained with a flush that spreads down his neck and the liner under his eyes is smudged, like he’s been rubbing at them. The muscles of his stomach are tautbeneath the white fabric of his t-shirt, his chest moving with each rapid breath that escapes his kiss-swollen lips.
He is a vision.
I shift my stance, bringing a knee up, so that I am only resting on one. Roman’s eyes widen, and I keep mine locked on them as I reach into my back pocket.
“Garrett,” he says, his hand coming up to cover his mouth, his eyes trained on the glint of platinum held between my two fingers.
“Marry me?” I swallow past the lump in my throat, my eyes burning with tears that match the swell in his. “I love you, Roman Otley. I love the parts you think I won’t love – every chaotic, messy, clingy part of you. I love it all.”
Roman rests a hand on my cheek. “I love that you still can’t cook, or that you pretend not to because you want me to do all the cooking. I love that you steal all of my shirts. I love that you smile so easily and you love so fiercely. And I love that you gave me a home, Roman. I love everything you are, everything you will be. But most of all, I love us and what we have, right here. So marry me, please?”
Tears trail down his cheeks as he sinks to his knees. Roman leans in, resting his hand on my chest, right over my heart, and brushes his lips to mine.
“Yes. Yes. A million, billion yesses.”
