“Good. Because you mean the world to me and I don’t ever want you to struggle alone.” Her words were a balm to everything in him that ached or stung or bled. Their fingers laced together so tightly he hoped they’d never come undone.
“You,” he told her quietly, “are everything.”
Dry as a bone, she murmured, “Flatterer.”
He smiled and felt it down to his soul.
“That day,” she said softly, and his smile faded. “That day, neither of us gave the other a chance. You reacted badly to an admittedly confusing situation, and then I reacted badly to you reacting badly. I wish I’d been more understanding. But I was trying to protect myself—trying to avoid taking a risk, because the truth is, you scare me. You’re monumental. Avoiding everything between us seemed easier than facing pain. But I refuse to be afraid anymore, Red. You’re more important than that.”
Hope and relief and this impossible, incandescent happiness swirled in his chest, as if his emotions were mixing to create the perfect color for this moment. Something beautiful and brilliant and Chloe, like those cute blue glasses or warm brown eyes. “Maybe we should solemnly swear that in the future we’ll both keep our heads out of our arses.”
“Maybe we should,” she said with a slow smile.
“All right. I swear.”
“I swear.”
She held out her little finger, and he grinned. “What am I supposed to do with that?”
“Give me yours,” she said sternly. He did, and she hooked hers around his and said, “Now it’s official. We pinkie-swore.”
He snorted. Pulled her closer because he couldn’t resist. Her breath hitched as she leaned forward, her cheek brushing his. Just that slight contact sent a shower of almost-unbearable pleasure through him. He whispered in her ear, “We okay?”
“We are,” she said softly.
Something jagged and broken inside him smoothed out, slotting back into place so firmly that he felt like he should’ve heard the click. This was where and who and how he should be: with Chloe.
He stood, pulling her up with him. And then, because he was in that kind of mood, he picked her up. She gave a little squeak of surprise as he cradled her against his chest, squeezing her to him, breathing in flowers and vanilla. Everything wrong with his world righted itself. “Just so you know, you aren’t ever getting rid of me. You’re it, and I’m fucked. I’m completely fucked.”
She laughed, running a hand through his hair. The action was unthinkingly possessive. He closed his eyes for a moment on a wave of satisfaction.
“That’s good to know,” she said. “Where are we going, by the way?”
“My room. Since we’re officially okay, there’s no reason why you can’t sit somewhere comfortable instead of the floor.”
“Fair enough. We’ll just sit, though. That’s all.”
“Oh, yeah. That’s all.”
It was, too, at first. She asked him a thousand questions about his plans, and nodded approvingly at his answers. He showed her the social media accounts he’d set up, and she told him why all his captions sucked and how to find decent hashtags.
And that was absolutely all.
But then Chloe got tired, so they lay down. And then she kissed him, and his brain malfunctioned, and the next thing he knew he was on top of her, holding her hands and licking into her mouth while she moaned.
And then, in the middle of it all, she gasped, “Oh, I almost forgot! Our shelved topic.”
“What?” he growled, dragging his lips down her throat.
“The fact that you love me.”
He stilled.
“It’s very sweet, of course,” she said, in a voice so innocent he just knew.
“Chloe.”
“And highly flattering, particularly coming from someone as wonderful as you—”
“Chloe.”
“What? It’s rude to interrupt, you know.”
He grinned down at her. “Stop torturing me. Just say it.”
“Say what?”
“Woman—”
“I love you, Red. I love you, I love you, I—mmpf!” She broke off with a squeak when he kissed her, hard.
Those three little words sounded so fucking good, but they tasted even better on her lips.
EPILOGUE
One Year Later
Chloe, you awful cow, it’s about time you—oh, hello there, Red.” Eve, as always, was on her best behavior the moment she saw Red’s face on her phone screen.
Chloe didn’t bother to hide her eye roll. “Yes, hello, dearest sister. I thought I’d check in before we got on with our day.”
“That’s not true,” Red said helpfully, raising his voice over the sounds of traffic and the clatter of hundreds of footsteps that were part and parcel of a busy New York street. “I made her do it.”
Chloe trod on his foot. He gave her an unapologetic grin.
“Honestly, Red, thank God you’re with her,” Eve tutted. “I bet you’ve already called your mum today. Like a good child.” She glared pointedly at Chloe, then turned away from the camera and hollered, “EVERYONE! CHLOE’S ON THE PHONE!”
And, wouldn’t you know it, the entire family happened to be at home. Just Chloe’s luck. Dani appeared first—shouldn’t she be in a library somewhere, starving in the name of academia?—followed by Dad, who was still wearing his coat as always, like he might fly off somewhere any minute. Then came Mum—oh, no, that was Aunt Mary without makeup. Mum was next, her smile uncharacteristically broad. She liked Red, thought he was a lovely boy, which was code for “strong enough to protect my darling daughter if she insists on gallivanting about the world.”
Chloe did indeed insist.
And then, finally, Gigi appeared, shoving everyone else out of the way until her face took up almost the entire screen. Gigi still hadn’t quite grasped the finer points of a video call, so she liked to make absolutely certain that her brilliance could be seen. She beamed and held up a wriggling, protesting Smudge.
Yes, they had Smudge. When Chloe and Red moved into a flat that allowed pets, Annie had provided a most welcome house-warming gift.
“Darling,” Gigi purred, “are you having the absolute time of your life?”
“Perhaps,” Chloe said with a private smile.
Down where her family couldn’t see, Red’s gloved hand squeezed hers.
“Smudge misses you awfully. Don’t you, Smudge?”
Smudge looked, at best, apathetic.
“I miss him, too,” Chloe said.
New York in winter was absolutely freezing. For that reason, despite missing her family a little bit, Chloe hurried through the call. She’d text them all later, she assured them, and yes, she was feeling fine, and New York was indeed exciting, but no, she wouldn’t compare it to Kenya or Belgium or Cuba because they were all just so different and all equally amazing.
Which was a lie, of course. Cuba had been her favorite. But she and Red weren’t done jet-setting.
Then, finally, the last of her relatives said good-bye, and she put the phone down and turned to Red. “Sorry. I should’ve known that would take forever.”
“It’s fine, Chlo.”