Total pages in book: 64
Estimated words: 61922 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 310(@200wpm)___ 248(@250wpm)___ 206(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 61922 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 310(@200wpm)___ 248(@250wpm)___ 206(@300wpm)
“Here you are, sir. It should be the upstairs unit. Do you need help with your luggage?” the driver inquired.
I had one carry-on, so no…I didn’t need help. I needed a dose of courage.
I typed a quick text to Win. If he didn’t read it, I’d resort to plan B, which involved sitting on the stairs until he showed up. Not my brightest work, however, I was fresh off an eleven-hour flight and it was currently midnight in the UK, so…give me a break.
There’s something on your porch. If you’re home, will you check for it now?
“Could you hold on a moment? And if possible, will you queue up this song on your phone?” I asked, pointing at my mobile.
The driver glanced at my phone and snort-laughed. “Are you kidding?”
“No. I’ll pay you for your time and the embarrassing soundtrack, but I need you to hurry. Just in case.”
I darted a frantic look at the stairwell leading to the second floor of the gray stucco house, the pathway lined with cheery red geraniums. The door wasn’t visible from this angle so I wasn’t sure how this was going to work. Bloody hell…new text.
Better yet, check the pavement.
Another text…Translation: Pavement is the sidewalk.
I stepped out of the car and waited.
The street was quiet. A few cars passed, a jogger weaved around two mums pushing prams, and a delivery truck stopped in front of the complex decorated with Pride flags on a few balconies across the street.
I hiked my carry-on over my shoulder and checked the address Raine had given me just as a figure glided down the steps.
My heart caught in my chest at the sight of him. He was…extraordinary. And he was mine. Mine.
This was it. I tapped the driver’s window and a moment later, Édith Piaf’s “La Vie en Rose” blasted from the car.
I dropped my bag on the grass, holding my breath when Winnie stopped on the bottom step, his mouth open in a perfect O.
I slipped the driver a few bills and waved him off. He pulled away, stalling at the stop sign on the corner to crank the volume to ear-splitting decibels.
Winnie crossed his chest, pushing the sleeves of his tee to his elbows and rubbing his arms. His form-fitted jeans were thread-worn at his crotch and rolled at the cuffs, and his toes were painted a purple that matched his flip-flops. Christ, he looked like a model for California living, the queer edition. So damn beautiful.
“Alistair. What are you doing here?”
The music was so loud, I could hardly hear myself think. I pointed at the idling car and went into professor mode…of course.
“That’s a love song,” I said, ignoring the question. “A beautiful French love song. She’s telling her man that he’s entered her heart and changed everything. And that when he speaks, she sees life in pink. And that’s pretty much exactly what I came here to tell you, but it sounds loads better in French.”
“Did you come all this way to speak French to me?” he whispered.
“I came to tell you that I love you.” I slipped my hands into my pockets and patted my mobile for good luck.
Winnie gasped and covered his heart with both hands. “Oh, my…”
“I love you, Win,” I repeated, my voice cracking ominously. “You’re everything to me…moonlight sonatas, chaos and peace, music and light, and color. So much color. I didn’t know that the world was brimming with magic until you came along. And God, I want that magic in my life.”
Tears welled in his eyes. “With me.”
“You.” I stepped closer and set a hand on his hip. “You’ve brought me to life again, reminded me to open my eyes…and not take the small things for granted. No matter how you feel about me, that alone is a debt I can’t repay. But I’m hoping that you love me too, and—”
Winnie leaped into my arms. “I love you. Yes, I love you so much.”
“Be mine, Win. Let me be yours.”
“I want that so bad.” He stroked my face and gave a self-deprecating shrug. “We both know I don’t fit. I’ve got the wrong kind of smarts, the wrong kind of friends. I live here, you live there. I know I’m good, but am I right for you?”
“God, yes. You’re perfect for me.” I kissed his temple, resting my hands on his shoulders. “If you want me, I’m yours.”
Winnie wiped a tear away. “I want you…forever.”
“Good. I don’t want to live vicariously through someone else’s two-thousand-year-old story anymore. I want my own. With you.”
He beamed, raking his teeth over his bottom lip. “How do you say I love you in French?”
“Je t’aime.”
“Je t’aime,” he repeated.
I swayed slightly, holding him tight. My pulse raced and my eyes were watery. I fused my lips to his, kissing him thoroughly. I was aware of the music fading, a horn blasting, and someone whistling, but it was background noise.