Page 43

“Me?” He was clearly surprised by that.

I nodded, knowing he could see me. “And he requested enchiladas.”

A huff. “He did not.”

I turned over my phone and showed him the conversation.

I could see the blush on his cheeks in the light of the phone. “You told him about my enchiladas?”

“You make fucking awesome enchiladas,” I told him, feeling a slight lightening as his lips curved upward.

“I can make them for him,” he said, then. “I—why does he want to talk to me?”

“I don’t know,” I answered honestly. The extent of Elliot’s interactions with Taavi thus far had been the necessary funeral platitudes and when Taavi cut his hair—and mine—because my hands were too shaky. “But I… did tell him about your parents. Maybe that’s why.”

He nodded, then turned off my phone and put it back on the night stand before nudging his way under my arm to lay on my chest, one arm around my waist. “Val?”

I ran my fingers through his hair, loving the texture and the warmth of his body pressed against mine. “Yeah?”

“Do you want me to?” He sounded scared again. Whether he was asking if I wanted him to come with me, wanted him to talk to Elliot, or wanted him to make Elliot enchiladas, I wasn’t sure. It honestly didn’t matter. The answer was the same for all of them.

I swallowed. “Yes…”

“But?”

“I want… I want you to—to actually like each other. You’re both—you both matter to me. And—” I didn’t quite know how to finish that thought in a way that wasn’t going to sound assholish.

“And what?” I should know better than to cut off my thoughts around Taavi.

“I-I don’t want to have to choose,” I managed.

He sighed, his breath brushing across the fabric of my t-shirt. “I’m not asking you to.”

“I know, but—”

“Valentine.”

Somehow, I didn’t hate my name quite so much when he said it. “I—”

Fingers pressed gently against my lips. “Do you love me?” he asked, the question soft and serious.

“God, fuck, yes. Of course I love you.” I caught his face in my hands. “I love you more than anything. I—”

Fingers touched my lips again. “And I love you. That’s what matters.”

I wanted to agree with him. Desperately. I wanted to believe that I could love him enough that it would make up for, well,me. But I knew better. Love isn’t always enough.

Depressing as fuck to think about, but I’m a realist. I know that people who love each other sometimes can’t live with each other. I didn’t want tobeone of those people, but nobody ever does.

I didn’t have the strength to face it tonight, though. Tonight—or very early this morning—I was just going to pull Taavi’s face to mine, replacing his fingers on my mouth with his lips. I was going to let him thread his fingers into my hair, his tongue teasing mine, and I was going to pull him close and not think about it.

I’m such a selfish fucking asshole.

* * *

It was just beforeseven when Taavi got up, and I waited for him to come back from showering before I dragged my ass out of bed around seven-thirty. Taavi hooked a finger in the waist-band of my hastily-thrown-on gym shorts to pull me close for a kiss.

I felt guilty about it, because I felt like I was leading him—and myself—on, but I half-melted into the kiss anyway, loving the warmth and softness of his mouth, the heat of his shower-warmed skin through his t-shirt, and the always-spicy scent of his body.