Behind His Lens(93)

Holy hell.

“Where would we go first?” I ask, buying myself more time to process everything.

“We’d fly into Rome.” He kisses me gently. His minty breath captures me under his spell and I feel my toes curl inside my boots.

“Then?”

“Greece.” He gives me a peck. “Turkey,” he says, adding another kiss. “Syria, Egypt— Around to Morocco, Spain, and France.”

A shiver runs down my spine as his mouth possesses me, and I know my voice sounds shaky as I ask, “Is your assignment just around the Mediterranean?”

“Yes, I’ll be shooting for a piece they’re writing about Urbanization on the coast of the Mediterranean Sea. While I’m there I’ll have small assignments along the way. But we’ll be traveling at our own pace. After I get the photos I need at each location, we can explore until we’re ready to move onto the…”

I cut him off midway through his sentence as I leap up into his arms. My mind was made up the moment he said he was leaving the country, but I had to let it sink in. My arms wrap around his neck and my feet dangle a foot or so off the ground as he holds me like a ragdoll. “Yes. Absolutely yes. When do we leave?”

“You’ll come with me?”

“Yes!”

His dimpled grin melts my heart and his blue eyes dance with excitement. “I haven’t confirmed with them, but it would be within the next few weeks. We can arrange everything with your apartment before then.”

This is happening. We’re going abroad together.

“I’m so excited.” Then a sudden realization sinks in. “Why did you need to tell me before we met up with Bennett and Naomi?”

His smile widens. “I want them to meet us in one of the destinations. I was going to bring it up at breakfast. The magazine just confirmed everything yesterday, and I couldn’t work up the nerve to ask you until just now.”

“Because you thought I’d say no?”

His gaze penetrates mine with easy confidence. “Oh, no,” he answers confidently. “If you had said no, I would have just invited Mrs. Jenkins.” He waggles his eyebrows playfully.

“Jude!” I swat his arm, hitting solid muscle, but he drops me back onto my feet and takes off down the street with his hand outstretched for me to latch onto. The early morning sun encases him like a golden backdrop and I have to hold my hands over my eyes like a visor to make out his silhouette.

“C’mon! We’re gonna be late for breakfast, slow poke,” he yells back to me, but I don’t budge. I stand there, telling myself to remember this moment in the back of my mind, knowing my life will never be the same.

The smile that forms on my lips nearly splits my cheeks in half as I try to contain every emotion short-circuiting through me. I was so used to the gloom, the loneliness, the pain, the fog, but this is the exact opposite.

This is blissful oblivion.