Page 55 of Crossing Into Brooklyn

Brooklyn clarifies her meaning. “You don’t trust me not to hurt you. And maybe one day I will. I don’t know. That worries me more than the thought that you might hurt me. That’s another way I know this is real. Please, don’t push me way. Please.”

Push her away? I probably should. I can’t. I make a simple request. “Stay.”

“Carter—”

“Stay here tonight. No expectations except that you are here in the morning.”

“In the guest room?” she challenges me.

“No. I want you closer.”

“Well, that’s something. Can I kiss you now?”

I can’t help myself. I laugh. “Not if I kiss you first.”

“Then hurry up.”

Very well. I search Brooklyn’s eyes. I feel mine brighten with desire, acknowledgment, and hopefulness. She is beautiful. I don’t need flowery exposition or metaphors. Brooklyn is beautiful. Her eyes dance with amusement and anticipation. Soft grey irises transform before my eyes to bluish-green. My thumb runs over her bottom lip. It will take every ounce of strength I possess to take this slowly. I lean toward her and claim her lips softly. My head spins. Her hands encircle my neck and draw me closer. Our kiss is gentle. It’s curious and optimistic. It reminds me of being a child on a carousel—round and round, colorful and whimsical—full of possibility and wonderment. Reluctantly, I pull away.

Brooklyn’s eyes plead with me for something undefinable. “Will you hold me?” she requests.

I pull her into my arms and lie back on the couch. “I do love you.”

“I love you too. Carter?”

“Yes?”

“I might not want you to let me go.”

I kiss the top of her head.

“Ever,” she says.

“Let’s start with tonight,” I tell her.

She turns to look at me. “Not just tonight,” she replies.

I kiss her gently. I understand her meaning. Tonight will give way to the morning and she will still be here. I’ve always thought that finding someone to love would make me soar. Strange. I feel more tethered than ever before—rooted in place by her presence. Her head falls onto my chest. I take a deep breath and feel her travel through me. We’ve already passed the first chapter. As I close my eyes, I wonder if loving Brooklyn might be the adventure that ends with “happily ever after.” Maybe.

***

A MONTH LATER

“How’s Brooklyn?”

“Busy.”

“How are you?’

“Not as busy as Brooklyn.”

“Lonely?” Ali asks.

My smile is genuine. “No.”

“Really?”

“She’s busy. She has a big interview at one the networks.”

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