“Bye, Emily.” Mitch mashed the End button.
Once the call was disconnected and the echo of Emily’s laughter faded, silence hung thick in the air between us. I’d laid it all out there, but he hadn’t really said how he felt. I couldn’t take it anymore. “What are you thinking?”
Mitch looked at me for a long moment, then shook his head and turned away. But before my heart could sink all the way into my stomach, he plucked the bottle opener from its place on the refrigerator door and popped open his beer. “I’m thinking we spent the better part of a week painting that living room, and you go and undo it just to prove a point.” He stuck the opener back on the door and shook his head again before taking a swig of beer. His eyes danced at me as he swallowed, something I hadn’t seen in far too long.
Something unfurled in my chest, and the release of tension felt a little like being drunk. “Hey,” I said. “I like the blue.” The ground finally felt solid under me, for the first time in weeks.
He smirked in response but didn’t argue. Instead he put his beer down on the counter. “I’m thinking . . .” He turned toward me, and I caught my breath at the look in his eyes. “I’m thinking it’s been about a hundred years since I’ve kissed you.”
He tucked a lock of hair behind my ear, and “oh” was all I had time to say before his mouth brushed over mine. All the remaining tension in my body fell away; nothing in the world had ever felt more right than kissing this man in my kitchen.
His hands skimmed over my shoulders and skated down my body to my waist, my hips, before boosting me up to sit on the kitchen island. My legs wound around his hips like they knew they’d come home, and the growl in the back of his throat told me more than any words ever could.
After a few slow, delicious minutes I pushed lightly on his chest, and he fell back a step. “Come on.” I hopped down from the counter, which brought me oh so close to him. I drew a shaking breath and thought seriously about chucking the rest of my plans for the evening and taking him to bed. But I wasn’t done proving myself to him yet. So I pocketed my phone and reached for my purse.
“Where to?” Mitch’s expression was still a little dazed, but he took my hand in his and I knew he was ready to go anywhere with me.
“You want to go public, I can’t imagine a better place to do it than Jackson’s on a Friday night.”
I started toward the front door, but stopped short as he refused to move. “Nah.”
“What do you mean, ‘nah’？” I turned around as he tugged me back to him.
“I mean, you proved your point. And I don’t want to share you tonight. Not with anyone. We can hit Jackson’s tomorrow night.” His arms wrapped around me and he pulled me flush against him, and there went any argument I might have had.
But I still tried. “You sure about that? We don’t need to stay in.” My arms circled his neck, fingers playing with the hair at the nape of his neck.
“Don’t need to. But maybe I want to. Two different things, remember?” He grinned, and I laid a hand on his cheek. His dimple appeared beneath my thumb and I stroked it, letting my own smile grow in response.
There was one thing I still hadn’t said, and it was time to take the leap. He deserved it. “Mitch, I . . .” All the breath left my body. I hadn’t said the words in so long that everything locked up. I forgot how absolutely terrifying it was to offer my heart so completely. But I needed to tell him. He deserved to know.
Mitch didn’t look concerned. His expression softened and he cupped my cheek in one hand. “You got this,” he said softly.
I stared up into those blue, blue eyes and took the leap. “I love you.” Fresh tears spilled down my cheeks, and he dashed them away as they fell.
“There you go.” His smile was small and private, not like his usual bright grin, and it was just for me. “Oh, April.” He leaned down and kissed me, sweet and lingering. “I’ve been gone for you for months. Ever since you yelled at my grandma.”
I laughed against his mouth. “I never yelled at your grandma.”
He shrugged. “Maybe not technically. Now, come on.” He pulled me toward the hallway. “You’ve got me craving those Thai noodles you like. Let’s order some and play with some attachments while we wait for them to be delivered.”
Damn. When he put it like that, why did anyone ever go out?
I glanced over my shoulder on the way out of the kitchen, at the flour, sugar, and vanilla tucked away in the corner of the counter. Eggs and butter were in the fridge. Book club was coming up, and you bet your ass I was bringing cupcakes.
Epilogue
I don’t know if I can do this.” My breath came hard in my chest.
“You can. I know you can.” Mitch’s voice came from behind me, panting practically in my ear, breathing almost as hard as I was. “Does it hurt?”
“No.” But I sounded doubtful even to myself.
“We can slow down, you know. If this doesn’t feel good?”
“No!” I responded a little too quickly. “You’re right. I’m fine.”
“That’s my girl,” he said. “Stubborn.”
“You know it.”
I was amazed at how good I felt. I thought there would be a lot more pain, but we’d trained very carefully for this. When we’d toed up at the starting line for the Thanksgiving morning 5K run, we’d agreed to take it easy. It was my first race since my accident, and I wasn’t looking to set any land-speed records. That was Simon’s goal; in fact, he’d probably finished the race already. That man was gunning for the podium. Me, I just wanted a nice easy jog with my boyfriend before eating our weight in Thanksgiving dinner.
My leg didn’t hurt, that was the amazing part. We’d started out slow, training on the weekends. I walked for a couple of weeks before I started adding running intervals, and last weekend I’d managed two miles without stopping. But we were closing in on three miles, and now that my legs had started to go rubbery I was questioning everything.
But Mitch was just behind me, pacing me, keeping me on track to finish the race in a respectable thirty-five minutes. I had a feeling that if I’d let him run the race on his own, he’d be done by now too, and waiting at the finish line with Simon. But he’d told me he’d be there every step of the way, and he meant that literally.
“Still feel okay?”
“Yeah. Yeah, I think so.” My lungs were burning and there was a definite wobble in my legs, but otherwise I was okay. I hazarded a glance over my shoulder at Mitch, and we shared a grin.
“Good,” he said. He nodded in front of us. “？’Cause look at that.”
I faced forward again, looking up to see the finish line banner stretched over the road in front of us, not fifty feet away. Adrenaline took over and I sprinted, pumping my legs and not even caring about breathing till I’d crossed the finish, Mitch laughing a few yards behind me.
“Holy shit.” My sprint turned to a jog until I slowed to a stop. I bent forward at the waist and propped my hands on my knees, sucking in air. “I did it.” I straightened and turned to Mitch. “I did it!”