A Million Kisses in Your Lifetime(132)

Crew presses my head against his chest, and I can feel the steady beat of his heart. “Aw Birdy, don’t cry.”

“I’m fine. I’m perfect.” And I’m still crying. This day has been so completely overwhelming. Good. Bad.

Wonderful.

“I don’t like it when you cry.” Crew’s voice is strained. “The piece was supposed to make you happy.”

“You make me happy,” I tell him, pulling away slightly so I can stare at his handsome face. “I can’t believe you would do this for me.”

His voice lowers, his expression gravely serious. “I would do anything for you, Wren. Just to see you smile. Hear you laugh. Remember what I told you?”

I nod, sniffing loudly.

“Instead, you’re crying like I killed your cat.”

“I don’t even have a cat,” I mumble, making him smile.

“Soon you’ll have two pussies,” he says, referring to the painting I bought at the gallery that day, when he followed me. Took me to lunch.

Kissed me in the back seat of his private car.

I laugh. Cough. Sniff. I’m a mess. “You’re right. I will.”

We’re quiet for a moment and I eventually disentangle myself from his arms to grab a tissue, wiping the tears from my face.

“I love the note you wrote me,” I say.

God, that note. Who knew Crew Lancaster could be such a romantic? I didn’t realize he had it in him.

But that’s what he’s been doing. Romancing me for the last couple of weeks. Making me feel special. As if he thinks I’m special. That he cares for me. Maybe he even loves me.

I think he does.

I really, really do.

“I’ve been on the hunt for it since you told me about it,” he admits.

I’m gaping at him. “You hated me then.”

“I did not,” he retorts.

I laugh, all the sadness leaving me at hearing him get all growly and grumpy. “You found it all on your own?”

“Actually, Grant helped me locate the owner.” He smiles. Shakes his head. “He’s such a dick.”

“The previous owner?”

“No, my big brother. He put me through some shit while we were trying to get it. But all I cared about in the end was owning it, and now it’s yours.”

“It’s such an extravagant gift,” I murmur, my gaze returning to the piece, drinking in all of those kisses on the canvas.

“You gave me something you can never give anyone else, and I wanted to do the same for you,” he admits, his voice low.

Oh God. When he says stuff like that, I don’t know what to do, or how to react.

Now I really want to jump him.

“Thank you,” I whisper, smiling at him when he enfolds me back into his arms. “I’ll cherish it forever.”

“Just like I’ll cherish you.” He doesn’t add the word forever, but I think I know what he means.

A realization hits me and I glance up at him. “Weren’t you supposed to go to your uncle’s house today?”

He shrugs one shoulder. “I came back when I got your text.”

“What?”

“When you sent me that text and it said your dad got you that piece, there was no way I could spend Christmas Eve with my family while your dad was lying to your face.” His expression is fierce. “I had to tell you the truth. In person.”

Rising up, I press my mouth to his, kissing him with everything I’ve got. His lips part and I tangle my tongue with his, until his hands are roaming and I’m whimpering, shoving him away from me.

“We can’t get carried away,” I say, breathless.

His grin is devastating. “Always my good girl.”

My cheeks go warm. “Stop. We’ll take things too far and you know it. I don’t want to break my mom’s trust.”

He runs a hand through his hair, blowing out a harsh breath. “Let’s go and hang out with her then.”

I frown. “You want to hang out with my mother?”

“Sure. We need to get to know each other. And I get the feeling she approves of me. I mean, look what I got you. Pretty impressive.”

Joy flows through my veins and I laugh.

“You don’t mind if I hang out with you and your mom, right?” He raises a brow.

“I want you to,” I whisper, smiling.

“Tomorrow afternoon, you want to come over to my place? It’ll just be me and my parents and brothers. Charlotte won’t be there, which is too bad. I really want you to meet her.”

The tears threaten yet again. He wants me to be with his family. And he wants to spend time with my mother. Oh God, this is serious. “I want to meet her too.”

Of course, it’s serious. He bought a painting that cost him well over five hundred thousand dollars. Maybe even a million. I know he’s a Lancaster and that is probably like, twenty dollars to him, but still.

What he’s done for me is just…no one has ever made me feel so special.

So loved.

“Thank you again for my gift,” I say again, hating how meaningless my words feel. “I absolutely love it.”

“You’re welcome.” The look on his face is one I’ve never seen before, and I wish I could take a photo so I’d have it forever. “Happy Birthday, Birdy.”