Page 77 of Making It Burn

Just like that.Simple, terrifying, and absolutely true.

I hadn’t said it.Wasn’t sure when I would.Maybe never, but I was thinking about it constantly—the words sitting on the tip of my tongue every time he laughed, every time he pulled me close in bed, every time he looked at me like I was the only person in the world.

Three weeks, and we’d fallen into a rhythm.I kept clothes at his place now—a drawer in his dresser, a toothbrush by the sink.We had inside jokes that made us crack up in meetings.He knew I hated mornings and always let me sleep an extra ten minutes while he showered.I knew he liked to work through lunch and would forget to eat unless I brought him something.

It felt domestic.Settled.Real.

And I was terrified of losing it.

“You’re thinking too loud again,” Mason murmured against my shoulder.We were still in bed, the December sun barely filtering through his curtains, and I had exactly twenty minutes before I needed to leave for work.

“How can you tell?”

“Your whole body tenses up.”His arm tightened around my waist.“What’s wrong?”

I love you.I’m in love with you.And I’m scared you’re never going to want anyone to know.

“Nothing,” I said instead.“Just thinking about work.”

“Liar.”But he kissed my shoulder and let it go.“We should get up.You have that deposition at nine.”

“Five more minutes.”

“You said that ten minutes ago.”

“Then five more minutes after these five minutes.”

Mason laughed, and the sound made my chest ache.“You’re impossible.”

“You like it.”

“I really do.”

I turned in his arms, kissing him properly, trying to pour everything I couldn’t say into it.When we finally broke apart, he was smiling—soft and unguarded in a way he never was at the office.

“Beau?”

“Yeah?”

“I’m glad you’re here.”

I love you.

“Me too.”

* * *

“You’re being ridiculous,” Lisa said, holding up a silver watch.“This is perfect.Classic, professional, not too personal.”

“It’s a watch.Everyone has a watch.”

“It’s a nice watch.Tag Heuer.He’ll love it.”

We were on our lunch break, wandering through the shops in Carytown, and I was starting to regret asking for Lisa’s help.She’d been suggesting “safe” gifts for the past hour—watches, cufflinks, leather briefcases—and none of them felt right.

“I don’t want nice,” I said.“I want...meaningful.”

“Meaningful.”Lisa set the watch down and turned to face me.“Beau, honey.You’re in love with him, aren’t you?”