Come As You Are(66)
“You do more than make me feel good.”
“What do I make you feel?” she asks coyly.
“You make me feel everything.”
She snuggles against me. Blowjobs, dinner, sex, success, happiness—I’m not sure what I did to deserve her, but I don’t intend to spend a single second taking her for granted. Ever.
Sabrina
The lights of the buildings twinkle across the Manhattan skyline, playing the part of the starlight that’s so rarely seen in this city.
I rest my head against Flynn’s shoulder and sigh contentedly. “I’m glad you were a stealth start-up at that party.”
“I’m glad you were the only one who figured out my costume.”
“I’m glad you twisted my arm and convinced me to escape to the library with you.”
He scoffs. “Twisted your arm? Hardly.”
I laugh too. “I know. I was willing to go anywhere with my masked duke.” I sit up and meet his piercing gaze. “But it’s you I love. I needed to meet you without knowing who you were to fall in love with you as you are.”
“I know that,” he says with a soft smile.
“With me, you always have an invitation to come as you are.”
He presses a soft kiss to my lips. “Your wordplay sounds both loving and filthy.”
“Sort of like you.” I wiggle my eyebrows.
He slinks an arm around me, claims my mouth in a kiss, and takes me up on my invitation, no costumes needed, clothing optional, right there on the couch.
Later that night, we head to Gramercy Park.
He hands me the key, and I unlock the gate, entering the private park. I nearly skip. It’s everything I imagined it to be—a gorgeous, verdant escape from Manhattan.
“It’s like one of London’s squares,” I say, twirling around, taking it all in, the lush green leaves on the trees, the stone walkways, the benches. “At least I think so. I’ve never been.”
“Do you want to go?”
“Do I want to go to London?”
He nods. “Yes. Do you?”
“Obviously.”
“Then we’ll go.”
He takes my hand, and we walk through the park, and for the first time ever, maybe, just maybe, I begin to believe that fairy tales can come true, the kind where the commoner wins the heart of the prince.
And the prince wins the love of the commoner.
All because they make each other uncommonly happy. And that’s what love should do.
Epilogue
Flynn
A few months later
One morning on my way to work, I find an invitation under the door.
It’s from my angel, and when I open it, it puts a fast and easy smile on my face. She’s invited me to a costume party this weekend.
Masquerades, costumes, and a little role play now and then — that’s our thing.
That weekend, I put on the outfit she’s chosen for me. I’m the kissing sailor, and when I find her at the rooftop party, the first order of business is to recreate the iconic photograph of the sailor kissing the nurse. That’s the easiest thing in the world as I bend her back, and kiss her deeply.
Her eyes are glossy when we separate. “That feels like exactly the kind of kiss that will become a famous photo.”
“Every single one with you does,” I tell her.
In the months that follow, we go to many more costume parties and masquerade balls, sometimes attending as movie duos, sometimes wearing only silver or gold masks.
We even find a few fancier fetes, and that’s when we feel as if we’re traveling in time. I don a waistcoat and top hat, and she wears a royal-blue gown. We dance with our Venetian masks on and then slip away to the library where we pretend we’re Angel and Duke again.
*
Sometimes, Kevin takes the train into the city and joins us for dinner. One night over Thai food, he says, “Do you know why our last name is Granger?”
“She told me she just liked the name.” Sabrina had said they changed their last name when their mom left.
He laughs, shaking his head.
Sabrina flushes pink as she points to her brother. “Don’t believe him. He makes stuff up.”
I sit back, waiting. “Oh, this is good. Now I have to know.”
“Hermione,” Kevin says with a grin.
I turn to Sabrina. “You named yourself for Hermione from Harry Potter?”
She shrugs happily. “I love Hermione. She’s brilliant and clever, and she stood up for the people she loved. I defy anyone to come up with a better reason to pick a name.”
I can’t argue with her on that.
*
A month later, I take her to London as promised. We fly first class, and her eyes are stars when she lies all the way back in the seat on the plane. I like showering her with gifts and experiences, and she’s learned not to be so stubborn in accepting them.
I show her all the sights—Big Ben, the London Eye, the National Gallery—but we find new ones as well, exploring the city in the way we like best.
That’s what we do when we’re home in New York too. We’ve tracked down bizarre street art in the Village, visited the Met and kissed in the Great Hall, and stopped by the underground gin joint in Chelsea.