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I could tell he was nervous about me coming to his house, but when I actually get there is when I really feel how tense he is. I’m not sure why. No one should be tense in their own personal space, but he is and very much apparent.

“I love your house. It’s cozy,” I tell him.

“Thank you.”

The AC is jumping. It smells like cherry incense and everything is neat and in order. And when I say order, even the pillows are sitting up properly in an organized fashion.

I walk to the kitchen to see the large sink, black fixtures, stainless steel appliances and the sage green cabinets. There isn’t a dining room, but the six-chair, wooden dinette suffices just fine. The table and chairs are the same color as the cabinets.

He says, “There are two bedrooms, two full baths, this kitchen, a deck on the back—it’s a simple home.

It used to belong to my grandparents. I had it renovated, but I wanted to preserve their memory, so I kept a lot of the furniture.

The dinette was theirs. I had it sanded and painted.

A few chairs in the living room were upholstered, that tall table in the entryway was sanded and stained…

pieces of them are sprinkled all throughout this house. ”

“Oh, that’s beautiful, Judah.”

“I thought so.”

Continuing down the hallway, he shows me the bedrooms, the bathrooms, and then says, “That’s it. I don’t need a mansion to be happy.”

“Certainly not. This is perfect for you.”

Heading back to the living room, he says, “Can I get you something to drink?”

“I’ll take some water.”

“That’s it?”

“Yes.”

He goes to the fridge. I take the remote from the table and turn on the TV. He walks over, hands me a bottle of water, sits on the sofa, takes the remote out of my hand and powers the TV back off.

I look at him. “My bad.”

“I don’t watch TV. Besides, you came here to spend some time with me, not the devil’s toy.”

“The devil’s toy?”

He grins. “That’s what my grandmother used to call it. She says the television is a weapon of mass destruction.”

“Did she say why?”

“She did. I heard it all the time. She said through the TV, the devil can effortlessly broadcast his agenda into billions of homes. It brings people a daily dose of panic, commercialism and unethical behavior.”

“Your grandmother was a wise woman.”

“She was. That’s why she never owned a TV. I didn’t want one either, but that space on the wall seemed perfect for one, so I put one there after the renovation. I usually play music on it or display a crackling fireplace or an ocean video.”

“That’s nice,” I say, reclining further back on the sofa with one leg folded beneath me. I notice Judah is sitting close, but not too close where I’d be tempted to slide my tongue between his lips.

I continue, “The only reason I was trying to turn it on was because you seemed a little—I don’t know— not like your usual self. Well, the self that I know.”

“That’s because I usually don’t have people over here. This is new for me.”

“So, what do you do here when you’re alone?”

“Sleep mostly. I don’t like to be alone with my thoughts. They’re not as happy as I would like them to be. Sometimes, I go outside and do some grounding. I sit in the rain—let it wash away my cares.”

“I’ve seen people do that on social media.”

“Yeah. It’s actually a very freeing experience. You should try it.”

“I will, one day.”

“Hey, did you finish reading your book yet?”

“Not yet. I try to read a little before I go to bed but most nights, I’m so exhausted from work, I don’t even try. I’ll just be lying there trying to read and the book falls right on my face.”

He grins. “I’ve had that happen a time or two.”

I take a sip of water.

He says, “When we were in the bookstore, I left because I knew the story you made up was about me, and I didn’t want to think about my life like that.”

“Like what?”

“Looking through optimistic lenses when I know the ending to the story. I know how it feels to be in a committed relationship with someone that you think you’re going to spend the rest of your life with only for them to leave you where you stand and basically chuck up the deuces and wish you good luck. ”

“I’m not trying to make excuses for her, but she was probably just scared, Judah. People react to different situations in different ways and, until you’re in that situation, you don’t know how you will respond.”

“So, you would’ve done the same thing?” he asks, pointedly, his gaze fixed on me.

“No.”

“How do you know? According to your own take on this, you’re not in the situation, so how can you say that affirmatively?”

“Because I know myself. I know who I am and who I represent.”

“Who do you represent?”

“My Creator. I represent love. Love doesn’t leave when times get hard, Judah, and if I was yours, I would never leave you. I know they say never say never but I’m saying never because I would never. I can say that affirmatively because I know my heart.”

He stares at me for so long, time stands still. I’m locked in, he’s locked in and we’re in this vortex that we can’t get out of. I don’t know what to say and he’s in another world. Suddenly, he looks down, thinking, I suppose, because he still hasn’t said anything.

I say, “I’m sorry that happened to you. I really am. Do you feel like you still need closure?”

“I don’t need anything but to be left alone.”

“Oh,” I say, taken aback by his response. “Did you…want me to…leave?”

He closes his eyes, debating on how to answer my question. Since he doesn’t respond, I decide for him. A delayed answer is usually ‘no’ anyway, isn’t it?

I get up and head for the door.

“Autumn, wait.”

“For what? It’s obvious this was a bad idea.”

“It wasn’t I’m just—”

I bend over near the front door to get my shoes. He walks over, bends down to take me by the wrist, and moves me upright so that I’m standing.

He says, “Don’t go. I’m sorry. I don’t know what to say. Or how to be? I don’t know how to talk to you because this shouldn’t—”

He sighs.

“This shouldn’t what, Judah?”

“This shouldn’t feel the way it feels.”

“And how’s that?”

“Autumn, I don’t want you to leave.”

“I don’t think you know what you want.”

He steps to me, his hand resting on my cheek and after licking his lips, he lowers his mouth to mine. My knees nearly buckle almost instantly at the joining of our mouths. I’ve been dying to feel his lips again. It feels like an eternity since he last kissed me and it has only been a few days.

He shifts his body forward, and using the wall for leverage, he kisses me deeper.

My goodness, I love every second of this, but I’d be lying if I said I didn’t hear the warnings in my head.

The alarms, the bells and whistles are all sounding at once, telling me that Judah is confused about life.

He’s living in limbo. He’s afraid. He’s not ready for the things I’m ready for.

But his warm tongue swirling around in my mouth made me ignore all of that.

I want him so much. I could love him the right way and undo all the pain that woman caused him.

If he needs to cry, I’ll cry with him. I want to laugh with him.

Hike with him. I want to be a real part of his life, but I can’t do any of that if he doesn’t let me.

He moans deeply. I settle into the kiss again and hold him as tightly as he’s holding me. His deep kisses nearly scare me as I struggle to breathe, and while he kisses me, I come to some conclusions about him. Judah Westinghouse has been depriving himself of something he desperately needs.

Love.

Affection.

Attention.

Companionship.

He doesn’t have to verbalize it. His actions have said it all. So when he picks me up and carries me to the sofa, I let him. When he lowers me and eases down on top of me, I let him. When he reconnects his mouth to mine again, I let him.

I grip his shoulders and relax after getting used to his weight, letting him get all the love he needs.

Never in my life have I been kissed like this.

Wait, I take that back. I have. He kissed me like this in the library on Sunday and now, I’m experiencing it again.

I nearly convulse off the sofa when Judah trails a kiss from my mouth to my neck.

I moan as sensations tear through me, reawakening my need for this kind of affection.

“Judah...” I gasp.

“Yes?”

When I open my eyes, he’s staring directly at me. I smile, my cheeks stretching. Tightening. Warming.

“What are you doing?” I ask. “What are we doing?”

“Kissing. Being together. Enjoying each other.”

“But you don’t want this.”

“I do. I want you. I love being with you, Autumn.”

He dips his head, placing small kisses on my lips.

When I’m able, I say, “I love being with you, too, Judah. You deserve happiness. You deserve to feel the way you feel right now.”

He kisses me again. Oh, I can get used to this.

Whispering in my ear, he asks, “Will you stay with me tonight?”

“I will. How can I say no to you?”

He smiles, eases up off of me, and stands.

Reaching for my hand, he helps me up and now, he’s the one lying on the sofa.

He invites me to lie on top of him, so that’s what I do.

I lie there on a bed of muscles and tatter kisses all around his bearded face.

And then I lay my head on his chest and close my eyes.

This feels good. It feels like this is where I belong. It feels like…

Home.