Page 76 of Falling Madly
“That ship has sailed, aye?” He laid down, and I curled up next to his warm body. Maybe it wasn’t fair to him, but I needed his body next to mine.
Everything about him soothed me.
I liked his voice. I liked the heavy hand that landed on my hip, securing me against the couch. I liked the smell of leather, cinnamon, and something woodsy that seemed to surround him. There was so much I liked, and I wished with my whole being I could feel what he felt. That certainty and conviction. Maybe then we’d have a chance.
Chapter Twenty-Six
Trevor
“Aww, you guys are adorable!”
Charlie’s words, followed by a laugh, cut through my sleep and I jerked upright, nearly launching Teresa off the couch.
She cracked open her eyelids, peering at me through dark lashes. “Is it morning?”
“Yes!” Bess announced. “Good morning! We have two hours until the competition. I was thinking we could grab breakfast at that cute cafe in town before we head out to Grandview Hill.”
Charlie wrapped his arm around her, and they smiled at us, looking every bit the perfect couple, ready for brunch.
“Can’t we just eat here?” Teresa muttered sleepily.
“You go,” I told Bess and Charlie. “Take the sled. We’ll walk to my car and meet you wherever Grandview Hill is.”
“It’s not far,” Teresa supplied, burying her face in the pillow, clearly not ready to get up.
Bess cast Charlie a coy look. “Maybe we should give them some privacy.”
“Yes, please,” Teresa said. “I told you guys, we’re… sleeping together. In the present tense.” She flashed us an adorably wicked, sleepy smile.
Yes, I thought. I needed time with her. Waking next to Teresa felt like Christmas morning as a kid, full of wonder and uncertainty. I lay back on the couch, letting my head sink into the pillow, stretching my arms overhead so I didn’t accidentally snuggle her. I’d wait for her move.
The door slammed as Bess and Charlie left, sending a cool blast of air our way. Teresa sat up, rubbing her eyes. “How did you sleep?”
“Surprisingly well,” I said, forcing myself upright. “You?”
The couch beat the floor I’d laid on the night before, but I missed my bed. Teresa got to her feet and rummaged through the bags we’d left by the door, pulling out her earlier work clothes. “I’m okay, but I really need some fresh underwear.” She grimaced, taking the clothes to the bedroom.
I got up and made my way to the kitchen, listening to the sound of the shower. What was she thinking? Did she regret last night? Stupid, bullish optimism had gotten the better of me, again. I’d forged ahead in blind faith, then crashed into a wall.
She wasn’t sure about us. She’d never been in love.
The heavy thoughts circled my brain on relentless repeat as I paced the kitchen, pulling random items onto the breakfast bar. A packet of waffle mix caught my eye. That I could do. That, and coffee.
A bit later, Teresa emerged in her purple sweater and jeans, a literal skip in her step, hair still damp but curling behind her ears.
The waffle iron sizzled, melted butter dripping onto the counter.
“It smells amazing in here,” she said between long sips of coffee. “What are you making?”
“Waffles.”
“Oh.” She inhaled deeply; her eyes closed. “I could get used to this.”
My heart leaped, but I held my tongue. She took the macchiato I offered and looked at me over the rim of her cup, eyes sparkling. “Good thing I own your couch now. Can I keep it here? So, it’s like a consulate in a foreign country.”
“Sure. I’ll check your passport every time you visit.” I took a fortifying gulp of my own coffee.
I wanted to ask how she was feeling, but I’d learned my lesson. My phone buzzed on the counter, and I picked it up. It was a text message from Boris.
