Page 102 of The Moon & His Tides

Because even though I quelled the little voice at the back of my head that saidthis will end, I didn’t want to believe it.

That was why I stole Sebastian’s watch from him a week ago. A difficult feat because he wore it every day and took ridiculous and adorable care of it.

I’d returned it to him while we watched the match, sliding the cool rose gold into one of his wide palms.

“I thought I’d lost it,” he admitted with a slight blush. “I thought I was going to be sick.”

“I hope it was worth it. I wanted to make an addition that I hope you’ll like very much.”

August in London could be absolute shite, but it was a gorgeous day as if the world knew Sebastian deserved nothing less than perfect sunshine on his birthday. The light struck his face full-on as he turned to look at me, his eyes translucent yellow gems against his inky lashes.

“You already got me a present,” he reminded me. “A very extravagant one. I’m still miffed about it, Adam. I only gave you a picnic and surfing lessons. Lord only knows what I’ll get Savvy in September.”

I shrugged. “I’m older and wealthier than you, Sebastian. Don’t try to compete with me in the gift-giving arena. I’ll always win.”

He grinned at me. “I take that as a challenge.”

I only arched a brow and jerked my chin at the watch still in his hand. “Flip it over.”

His head bent as he did so, reading the words I had engraved on the case.

Our impossible universe.

I wasn’t surprised by the hiss of breath he sucked through his teeth. In fact, I’d been hoping for it.

Because even after all these months, I still hadn’t said the words.

I love you.

So simple to speak, just three little, itty-bitty words that meant so fucking much.

That meant the world.

Sebastian lived in this impossible universe where he believed that the force of love could eradicate the seemingly insurmountable obstacle of everyone else’s hate. It wasn’t the universe we existed in, but it was absolutely the one I found myself dreaming about.

Sebastian’s impossible universe.

And every day I spent with him, I wanted it with a greater and greater ferocity that seemed to eat up my insides.

All I could think wasoneday.

When we were old and done with our careers.

When the three of us could retire to a house in the South of France or the wilds of the Scottish Highlands or fucking Timbuktu for all I cared. Somewhere far away from the paps and the gossips and prying judgemental eyes.

Where we could love each other quietly, but openly until the end of time.

It wasn’t much of a promise. Much of a life to offer a nineteen-year-old soon-to-be superstar.

But it was all I had, and I wanted it with all my heart and soul and every bloody breath I breathed each day.

For that to be enough for him.

For me to be enough for him.

The promise of that impossible universe one day.

“Adam…” he said, twisting in his seat to face me because Savannah was taking a call at the back of our private box. “What are you saying?”