Page 84 of Sticky Fingers

Chapter Twenty-Eight

Sonia

“Is it true?”I ask him, my heart hammering away.

He looks into my eyes for a long time, not saying a single word, and I remain frozen in place. I didn’t even think about coming here.

The minute I saw the headline of the Daily Journal story, my legs immediately carried me out of the apartment.

Slowly, his lips turn into a soft smile.

“It’s been true all along, Sonia,” he whispers gently, and I actually have to bite my bottom lip to stop the tears from coming.

How could I have been so foolish? Why couldn’t I simply have trusted him in the first place? Am I so fucked up that I can’t even believe the man I love?

“I’m...I’m sorry, Malcolm...I’m so fucking—”

He doesn’t let me finish my sentence. He closes the distance between us in a split second and wraps me in his arms, his right hand gently resting on the nape of my neck.

Oh, fuck, I can’t stop it.

Here come the tears.

Grabbing his shirt tightly, I bury my face in his chest and allow a sob to take over. As I close my eyes, I feel the tears rushing down my cheeks, their salty twang coating my lips.

“Hey, it’s fine, Sonia,” he whispers into my ear, running his fingers through my hair.

Then, he places two fingers under my chin and forces me to look up, straight into his eyes. Goddammit, I love him so much.

“You’re here now...and that’s the only thing I care about.”

“I’ll never leave, Malcolm,” I find the strength to say. “Never go away. I want to be by your side. Ineedto be by your side.”

“Then…” he whispers, that maddening smile once more on his lips, “is that theyesI’ve been waiting for?”

“Yes...a thousand times, yes. I want to marry you, Malcolm. More than anything,” I tell him, wiping away the tears with the back of my hand.

Somehow, I manage to smile, the warmth of his body making me forget the desperation I felt these past few days.

“That’s all I wanted to hear.”

With that, he grabs my hand and tugs it gently, making me take a step forward into his apartment. Closing the door behind us, he then places his hands on my hips and rests his forehead against mine.

“Fuck, Sonia, I missed you. I missed you so fucking much,” he whispers, and then brushes his thumb over my lips. “I missed your lips, I missed your smile, and the way you laugh...I missed your hand on mine.”

I say nothing. I stand there, hearing my own heart beating in time with his words. Then, I cup his face gently and stand on tiptoes.

Brushing my lips against his, I close my eyes and allow eternity to wrap itself around us.

Somehow, this kiss is different from all others. There isn’t that anxious feeling, that uncertainty about the future...

Instead, there’s a deep-rooted conviction that our lips belong together, and that our bodies are meant for each other.

I thought love was about weddings and flowers, great gestures and diamond rings. But, in the end, love has nothing to do with that.

Don’t ask me to explain what love is because I can’t. It simply isn’t something you can put into words. You can explain it with a kiss and with the way you hold your lover’s hands, but you can’t explain it with words.

“I’ve dreamt of this kiss every single night,” I finally tell him when I pull free, my eyes on his again.