Page 44 of Sweet Doe
"I think I need some air," I say, standing up perhaps a bit too quickly. The room spins around me, and Asher is there immediately, steadying me with gentle hands.
"Careful," he murmurs, his touch warm through the soft fabric of the dress he bought for me. It's a deep blue silk that brings out my eyes, fitted but elegant. "The champagne hit you harder than you expected."
"I'm fine," I protest, but I don't pull away from his steadying grip. "I just need some fresh air."
"It's below freezing outside."
"Then I'll stay by the window." I move toward the large picture window that overlooks the forest, pressing my palms against the cold glass. Outside, the snow continues to fall, eachflake caught and illuminated by the warm light spilling from the cabin.
It's beautiful, in an isolated, end-of-the-world kind of way. Like we're the last two people on earth, comfortable in this perfect little bubble while the rest of civilization disappears under snow and ice.
"Do you ever miss it?" I ask without turning around. "The real world, I mean. Other people, cities, all the noise and chaos of normal life?"
"No." His answer comes without hesitation. "I never fit in that world anyway." I feel him move closer, though he doesn't touch me. "But here, with you, I finally make sense."
"We can't stay here forever." The words slip out before I can stop them, and I feel him go still behind me.
"Why not?"
"Because..." I struggle to find reasons that don't sound hollow even to me. "Because we'll run out of supplies. Or someone will come looking. This isn't real life."
"This is the realest life I've ever lived." His reflection appears in the window beside mine, his face serious in the glass. "Every day before you felt empty. This is what I was meant for—taking care of you,lovingyou, building with you."
"Building what?"
"Building a love worth killing for." His voice is smooth. "A love worth sacrificing everything for."
The way he talks about murder should horrify me, but the champagne has dulled the sharp edges of my fear.
"You're insane," I whisper, but there's no real threat in it.
"Probably." His hands settle on my shoulders, warm and possessive through the silk. "But I'm insane about you."
I find myself leaning back against his chest, letting his warmth surround me as we stand together watching the snowfall. His arms come around me from behind, holding me against him.
"Tell me about your New Year's resolution," he murmurs against my hair.
"I don't make resolutions anymore."
"Make one anyway. What would you want to change about your life if you could change anything?"
What would I change? The obvious answer is everything. I'd go back to Christmas Eve and run the moment Alex raised his hand to me. I'd call the police, or get in my car and drive away, or scream loud enough to bring help. I'd change the decisions that led me to this cabin. To this man.
But if I'm being honest—and the champagne is making medangerouslyhonest—I'm not sure I would change everything. Not the way he makes me feel when he touches me. Not the way he looks at me like I'm the most important thing in his world. Not the safety I feel in his arms, even knowing how dangerous those arms can be.
"I'd want to stop being afraid," I say finally, surprising myself with the truth. "I'd want to stop second-guessing every feeling, every thought, every moment of happiness. I'd want to just... be."
"You can do that here." His voice is soft, hypnotic almost. "You can be anyone you want to be here. You can stop carrying the weight of other people's expectations and just exist."
"What if I don't know who I am without those things?"
"Then we'll figure it out together." His lips brush against my temple, feather-light. "We have all the time in the world to discover who you really are."
All the time in the world.
"The ball drop is starting," he says, nodding toward the small TV in the corner where Dick Clark's New Year's Rockin' Eve is playing on a low volume. "One minute until midnight."
One minute until a new year.
