Page 137 of Duke
I’m laughing as I toss a leg over his hip and guide him to my center. “Just had to get out of my own way to let you in.”
“Glad you did, sweethe—oh, fuck you feel good.” He glides inside me on a smooth stroke. “You meant that literally, yeah? Letting me in?”
“Ha.”
He rolls on top of me. “So now the question is, Blue—what else are you right about?”
I’m hit by a flood of thoughts—of certainty—as he fucks me to orgasm.
I was right about my ability to teach myself how to be a designer.
I was right that I could learn to run a business too.
I was right to keep going when everyone else told me to quit.
I am right about being lovable.I’m not the problem. Preston is the problem. Dad is the problem. The world is the problem. Perfectionism is the fucking problem.
I. Am. Loved.Look at this man, loving the shit out of me every day and every night. He never lets up. Never wavers in his worship of me and the little life we’re building together.
I am kindhearted. I am messy. I am fun and funny and a joy to be around—most of the time anyway. And when I’m not? That’s okay. That’s called being human.
A feeling bursts through me. It’s light. It’s laughter. It’s an orgasm I can feel in every corner of my being.
I’m going to let Duke all the way in, because I know he’s going to love what he finds.
No more holding back. No more pushing him or anyone else away. I’m moving toward connection now, not running away from it, breaking my own heart before anyone else can.
After we get cleaned up, I head for the kitchen. I play Milli Vanilli on the little speaker by the window above the sink while I make grilled cheese and Duke, who put on his glasses, throws together a salad with the season’s first tomatoes, fresh from Patsy’s garden.
“Wow, that’s good,” Duke says after taking his first bite of grilled cheese. “Just as good as the first time you made it, Blue. Thank you.”
“I always want to make you grilled cheese.” My voice wobbles, but I push forward. “Just like I always want to dance with you to the nineties’ best lip-synched hits.”
Duke’s eyes lock on mine across the table. He smiles. “I love the sound of this.”
“I love you.” A tear slips out of my eye. “So freaking much, baby. It terrifies me to think I could’ve missed out on all this if I’d kept being stupid—kept pushing you away. But I didn’t and now I’m happier than I thought I ever deserved to be. I feel so lucky, and I am so grateful, and—”
I don’t get to finish, though, because Duke is pushing up to his feet and rounding the table and grabbing my face in his hands. He kisses me, hard, and I feel his cheeks go damp as he keeps kissing me, his tongue in my mouth, his hands in my hair.
“Thank fuck,” he finally breathes, breaking the kiss. “Because I’m in love with you too, Blue. I always wanna dance with you and make you s’mores and go on treacherous road trips with you.”
“Dear Lord, let’s hope we don’t have any more of those,” I say, giggling like an idiot because Iaman idiot for this man.
I am stupid in love with him, and I don’t care who knows it.
“Most of all, though, I always wanna be the one who makes you smile.” He runs his thumbs underneath my eyes. “You and this baby—y’all are my world now. Grateful doesn’t begin to cover how I feel about that fact.”
I kiss his mouth. Softly this time. “Can we dance now?”
“Yes, Blue.” He pulls me to my feet. “Answer’s always gonna be yes if you’re the one asking.”
We dance in the kitchen until my feet hurt from busting several terrible moves and my sides hurt from laughing. We dance to Billy Joel and Whitney Houston and old school Tim McGraw. Duke sings totally off-key along to Kenny Loggins, while I know every word to Reba’s “Fancy.”
The whole thing is silly and stupid and quite possibly the most fun I’ve ever had stone-cold sober. When we finally collapse into bed, I fall asleep almost immediately, curled up in my usual position as little spoon.
Sometimes, love really does win.
Thank God for that.
