My Favorite Half-Night Stand(72)

Anna’s voice rings in my ears: If Reid were here right now, what would you want him to know?

Well, Reid is right here.

“I really missed you,” I say simply.

An easy start. Baby steps.

I watch his mouth, mesmerized, as his tongue slips out and is drawn across his lower lip. “I missed you, too.”

Needing air, I pull my attention away and study the rest of his face. He’s stubbly, and his eyes are a little hollow, like he’s gone for a long run without drinking enough water. On instinct, I lift my hand and press it to his cheek. “You did?”

He nods. “I almost called about five hundred times.”

“I guess it’s okay that you didn’t. I had—have—some work to do.”

“Yeah.” He shifts his gaze back and forth between my eyes, trying to read me. His brow furrows. “You okay, Mills?”

I shake my head, and my chin wobbles. “Not really.”

At his worried frown, I start crying again. What is with me? Seriously, it’s like a dam has burst and I’m an unending, sobbing mess. I fight the mortification rising inside, and trying to focus on Reid’s reaction helps: he seems completely unfazed by the tears and snot and hiccups.

“But I’m really glad you’re here,” I say through a sob. “Like, really, really glad you’re here. I can’t tell you how much I missed you. I have been—”

“Millie. Honey.” He tries to calm me, pressing his hand to the side of my neck. “I’m here.”

When I choke again, he leans in, cupping my face and covering my lips with his.

I don’t know how he’s interested in kissing my red, swollen mouth right now, but he clearly is, and he’s doing it with such devotion and relief that I feel immediately light-headed. My arms find their way around his neck and my legs slide over onto his lap and all he has to do is let out a quiet, encouraging groan into my mouth and I’m rocking over him, and he’s moving with me, and his shirt is gone, then mine—

But I pull back, pressing a hand to his chest just as he starts making his way down my bare neck to my collarbone.

“Wait.” I swallow, struggling to catch my breath. His eyes move up from my bare torso to my face, and he looks as drugged as I feel. “I need to know you heard me.”

He remains still, listening intently. “Okay.”

“I’m sorry about what I did,” I say, and I wait for him to acknowledge this with a tilt of his head. “And I’m working on being more forthcoming.”

Nodding again, he whispers, “I heard you. Promise you’ll tell me how I can help?”

I feel like a limp rag dragged through warm water; I am so relieved. “I will.”

Reid leans forward, intent on resuming where we left off, but one last bit of Anna’s instructions rises in my thoughts. “And I can’t do this”—I gesture to where we are pressed distractingly together—“without some sort of understanding . . .”

With a smile, he stretches, pressing a sweet, lingering kiss to my mouth. “This is your condition? Commitment?”

I nod, fighting the instinct to make a joke about signing a waiver and my vagina no longer having hourly rates. “I love you. And I’m trying to be better about being clear about what I want and need.”

He nods solemnly, with a playful gleam to his eyes, but catches my expression as I fight a scowl.

“I’m not trying to tease you,” he says, and kisses me again. “It’s just very sweet, seeing you like this.”

I close my eyes, growling, “It’s embarrassing.”

“I’m in, Mills. I’m committed.” He licks his lips, and I swear my pulse is racing a thousand beats a minute. “I want this, too.”

“Okay.” I exhale. “That’s a relief.”

I feel his breath on my neck just before he kisses me there. “I love you, too.” He punctuates each small phrase with a kiss lower on my throat. “All of you. The silly, the quiet, the argumentative, the sarcastic, and even this side.” He kisses my shoulder. “The softer side.” His hands come up over my waist. “I like feeling that I’m getting all of you.”

With a grin, I ask, “Well, do you want to get all of me on the couch? Or would you rather have all of me in the bed?”

Reid laughs, and the sound seems to gather up all the tiny broken bits I’ve left around my living room this past month without him. He stands, with me in his arms, and kisses my nose. “There she is.”





epilogue


        millie


Dad’s dinner sits half-eaten on the TV tray in front of his lounger. He’s already asleep, but I’m not going to bother trying to move him. One, because I couldn’t lift him by myself even if I wanted to (I tried that one night when he fell, and my back still aches even two weeks later), and two, because he seems to sleep better sitting up. At least for now.

It’s not been an easy recovery after the implantation of his deep brain stimulators. He also had to have two spinal fusions, which is the source of much of his discomfort. We hate to hope too much, Elly and I—because we really aren’t that far out of his surgery, and he’s on a lot of medications—but so far it seems like the stimulators are working. His symptoms are a good deal better than they were even the last time I visited.