Page 52 of Our Little Cliche

Chapter Fifty-One

CYRUS

“I. Love. You . Holly Cate,” I enunciate the five perfect words, breath by breath, for the entire world to hear. Proudly . And without hesitation or delay, directly on the stroke of midnight , my lips connect with hers with every inch of myself that I can give to her, and she accepts me gladly.

My New Year’s resolution.

The entire room spins as if the only people that exist on this earth were Holly and I, and I cannot break the thought of feeling free. It’s like… magic, or something. A spell, even. Cast in the air between us, like we’ve lifted a curse.

I don’t truly know how long we stay this way, but it’s long enough that the music has lulled to nothing, the band has packed up, the guests are almost gone, and the lights have dimmed.

“Well, this went a different path than what I was expecting,” Holly beams, tucking her once messy sex hair ringlets to a now smoothed out wave behind her ear.

“Can you believe I even considered giving you head under the table tonight? I even had the message drafted out and all. But then the conundrum happened, and I never ended up sending it.”

“While my cock in your mouth sounds absolutely divine, my love,” I growl, lifting her into my arms like a newborn baby without her dress revealing her unclothed areas. “Right now, I wish nothing more than for it to be inside the pussy of the woman who the whole world knows as mine .”

“Mine…” Holly sighs, as if trying it on for size. She doesn’t hide the breathy moan. “Mhmm, yes please.”

Her exhausted enthusiasm makes me throb against the seam of my pants. “So desperate for me.”

“You have no idea.”

Oh, don’t I?

Grinning, my hand finds its way through the slit of her dress as I walk us through the corridor to the elevator, feeling that her core is soaked . She gasps in response to my soft touch, holding her breath from letting out anything louder.

“I think I very much do have an idea, angel.”

“Wow, wow, wow. Slow down, angel. You saw who ?” I frown at Holly, who’s waving her arms around like she’s performing sign language, but in four different languages at once.

She ended up a bit behind me after breakfast and then rushed into the room already rambling.

I don’t know who has her so worked up, but sometimes she talks too fast when she’s excited, and this is one of those times.

She takes a breath. “The lady that found me a house while I was still in Australia.”

“Ah, when drunk you decided Canada was it ?” I air quote the last word with a smirk, and she playfully slaps me over my bicep.

“You bloody smart ass. Yes. Her name is Susan, I know it was her.”

“Oh, Susan Kivert?”

“Wait, you know her?” Holly asks.

“Of course. That would have definitely been her, then. That’s Izzy’s mom.”

“Wait. So the person who found me a house to live in, is also the mother of my favorite author? No way! Really?”

“Yes.”

“Oh my god. I’m going to text her, maybe we could catch up bef?—”

My phone sings, cutting her off mid sentence. I swallow the dread. “It’s Quinn…”

Holly holds her hand over her mouth, equally as concerned.

“Shit.” This is it. This is the moment it all comes to an end. “Our flight isn’t until four. Go call Susan, have fun. I’ll take care of… this,” I add, gesturing to the incoming call.

“Okay.”

“Meet you in the lobby later?”

“Yep.”

It’s not quite two thirty when Holly returns from wherever she went, peeling off her beanie.

“I was wondering whether or not I was going to have to send out the hunting hounds,” I laugh, then kiss her fondly on the forehead.

My lips feel a crisp pinch of the chill of her skin from the cold outside. “How was it?”

“Oh, it was so great! I’ve missed her, she’s such a lovely lady.

She gave me food, and clothes when I got to Banff, did you know?

I might’ve already told you that. Anyway, I told her everything .

Her favorite part was when you freaked out over me biting my lip.

And she laughed when I said that you caught me when I fell down the library ladder. ”

I titter, tapping confirm on the Uber app for a run to the airport. “Yes, that was quite amusing. It’s one of the many reasons I love you, Holly. Wow, I can’t help feeling like that was… years ago.” The words come out in such disbelief.

Holly grabs her peach bag, pulling the handle bar upward and rolling it beside her. “It does feel like that, doesn’t it? Like we’ve known each other forever.”

“Maybe we were in love in our past life, picking up where we left off, but without memory. Maybe even the time before that.”

“And the time before that…”

“Mmm. And do you know what?” I say, totally smitten as we walk out— holding hands, in public —into the icy cold to wait for the car that’s only a few hundred meters away. When she shivers, I tuck her under my arm and wrap my jacket around her.

“What?”

“We will love each other even again in our next life. When you and I are gone, our souls will be together again, forever and always. Even across oceans we will find each other like we already have.”

“So poetic,” she teases.

“You bring it out in me. I’m so fucking in love with you it’s sickening.”

“I love you too, Cyrus.” The truth of that is in her eyes as she smiles up at me. But then the smile dims as she adds, “Wait, I almost forgot.”

I grin fondly. Of course she did . “Mmm?”

“The call…” she asks.

“It went exactly how we expected. Have you seen the paper today? Actually, social media might give you an idea of how it went.” I cock my eyebrow, amused with the images that have been all over the papers. Globally.

Us.

“No.” Her tone is laced with sorrow, quickly working out what might have happened.

Two Riverton House employees locking tongues for New Year’s seemed to be a pretty career ending hot topic for all the headliners.

As I expected. “Oh, Cyrus. I’m so sorry.

” Her apology is genuine, and I know that it breaks her heart.

“Don’t be. Who needs that title anyway? I have you.”

“And you will for always.”

“Have you checked your phone for an email from him?”

“No, I’ve been with Susan,” she pulls out her phone, flicking through the apps, but then her face falls even more. “Oh.”

“Let me guess. You’re fired?”

“…Yep,” she pops the p .

“Well, screw that prick and his wasted publishing company. Get in,” I say as a red BMW rolls by the entrance. “Let’s take you home. To our home.”