Page 74 of After Our Kiss

Lying there in the low-burn of our body heat, listening to her undisturbed rhythm, I could believe she was right. And when I palmed her soft belly possessively, imagining us raising a baby someday...

I knew she had to be.

****

Setting our glasses on the little table, I stretched out on the wicker couch. Georgia followed me onto the patio. The sun was high in the sky; the building's trim shielding us from the worst of it.

Smoothing her skirt, she dropped down next to me. “I'm happy you get Saturday off from work.”

“Me too. Vick says that in five months, I can earn vacation time.”

Her eyes focused on her hands in her lap. “Fantastic. We get to plan something super crazy normal, like a camping trip. Or a trip to Disney.”

I snickered in amusement. “Do you even like Mickey Mouse?”

“Of course I do. Who doesn't like Mickey Mouse!” she answered too loudly, and then she laughed, her fingers pushing her hair behind her ears. “I'm sorry. Talking about vacations... work... our future and everything, it's just so weird. Isn't it?”

I circled her in my arms, chin settling on her shoulder. “Not weird. It's more like a dream. I love you, Georgia Mary King.” Saying it created a flow of white warmth up my body.

“I love you too.” Our ankles crossed on top of each other on the coffee table. Overhead, the sun was bright enough that when I looked up, I had to shut my eyes. Colors filtered through my lids like a kaleidoscope; I breathed deep, marveling in the serenity of the fresh air.

Of being free.

“Are you ready?” she asked me.

Looking down, I spread the book on my knees. It was the one that came afterThe Valley of the Horses, the story I'd slipped her in secret forever ago. I crowded close, her body hot where it touched my arm. “I've waited forever to read this with you. I'm surprised you didn't already.”

“I couldn't handle it,” she said, voice dropping. “Reading it without you would have been too painful. Like I was moving on.”

Grasping her hands, I leaned down, kissing her plush lips as tenderly as you'd touch a snowflake, wishing it not to melt. Our tongues caressed, the sensation all butter and static. Georgia thrummed in my arms. Her head nuzzled into the perfect crook of my shoulder, fingernails resting on my chest. “Let's do this.”

I spread the pages to reveal the printed ink inside. “Here we go. The love story continues.”

And so did ours.