Life In Reverse(96)

Closing the distance between us, I cradle her face in my hands, thumbing away her tears. “God, Ember. I love you. From the moment you walked into my house,” I smile, “into my life… with that damn Mickey Mouse shirt and those red sneakers, it’s been you. It will always be you… for me,” I murmur, gliding my fingers across her cheek. “I couldn’t stop loving you. You never left my heart.” I don’t get any more words out because she flings her arms around my neck, sobbing messy, uncontrollable tears—but life is messy, and somehow I’ve learned that the hard way. And holding her now, it’s like… like holding life in my arms, embracing it, in all its unpredictability and craziness.

“I love you,” she whispers between soft cries, and something inside me gives way and my heart cracks open—and I come spilling out—all of me; the real me, the flawed me. Just me I guess. My whole body gives in, sagging against her, finally setting me free. Because this is where I belong.

When her limbs stop shaking, she draws back and presses her forehead to mine. “We’ve lost so much time. I already knew what was in my heart. I wasn’t about to make you jump through hoops to get to it,” she says softly, the tears still falling.

“I would have.” Kissing the tip of her nose, I brush my fingers across her cheek. “For you, I would have.” I pull away just enough for her to see my eyes. “God, I missed you so much.” My thumb wanders over her brow, the curve of her jaw, the outline of her smile. “You’re my sweetheart, you know.”

“Yeah?”

“Yeah,” I nod, cupping a hand around her neck and dragging her lips to mine, kissing her slow and deep—with all the tenderness she deserves, and all the love that’s in my heart. The slide of our lips. The tangle of our tongues. The taste of her releases a hunger and I urge her body closer, one hand slipping through her hair, guiding her mouth. She moans and I think I do, too. I’m not sure because I’m lost in her taste, her scent, the feel of her soft skin beneath my fingers. Her hands roam my back, grazing the waistband of my jeans and I arch against her, needing her to touch me. Gradually, I become aware of the sound of voices nearby and the smell of rotten garbage, and think to myself, not here. I don’t want to do this here.

“Ember,” I pant against her lips. “Come home with me?” She gifts me with a silent nod that completes a scenario I’ve imagined in my head a million times in the last three years—and I’m high as a f*cking kite. My hand finds its way to hers. “Let’s go, Mickey.”





THE CAB SWERVES through traffic but Vance’s hand remains tightly wrapped around mine. My head rests on his shoulder, his fingers tracing patterns on my arm. Every now and then, I glance up at him. His profile is relaxed, mouth curled into a smile. Me, I’m smiling so big my face hurts. I haven’t felt this happy in… over three years to be exact. As these thoughts dominate my mind, I snuggle closer. I want to make sure he’s real, that I’m not dreaming.

“Are you trying to burrow under my skin?” he teases, and I laugh, hooking my leg over his thigh.

“I might be. Is that a problem for you?”

He slips a finger under my chin, bringing my eyes up to his. All playfulness dissipates as his gaze sears mine. “No, Mickey. It’s not. Considering you’ve been under my skin since the moment I met you.” He kisses me once and I sigh, laying my head back on his shoulder.

The taxi pulls up to his apartment building and Vance whips out a fifty dollar bill, paying the cabbie without bothering to wait for change.

“You gave him a forty dollar tip,” I marvel as he leads me inside and up to his floor. “He looked like he just won the lottery.”

“Good. Now he knows how I f*cking feel.” He unlocks the door, grinning as we step over the threshold. “This is it.” My eyes wander the room consisting of a long black sofa and matching chair, both covered with clothes and remote controls. A rectangular table in the corner is crammed with computer equipment. Framed photographs and paintings I assume were created by his mom fill a second wall.

“Wow.” I look back at him. “It’s… it’s… sparse.”

He chuckles softly. “There you are.” He smiles, eyes glittering. “God, I missed that. The way you cut right to the chase.” We stare at each other for the space of several breaths before I turn toward the wall filled with paintings. I edge closer, wanting to examine their finer detail. “Those are some of my mom’s pieces.”

“I could tell right away. They’re reminiscent of the style I saw when we visited her.” The soft palette of a beach landscape draws my focus. “You must really miss her.”

“I do.” Vance crosses the room to stand beside me, his gaze on the picture. “It was really hard for her in the end. Her muscles had weakened to the point where she couldn’t even feed herself. It was… painful… to see her like that.” His breathing changes and I let my hand find his, interlocking our fingers. “After a while everything became too much for her. Her immune system had weakened and she ended up contracting pneumonia.” His eyes drift to mine, a flash of sadness amidst the calm blue. “The mom that I knew and loved was long gone. Her spirit was already somewhere else, you know? And… I’m glad she’s not suffering anymore.” He clears his throat and gestures toward the sofa. “Sit down for a sec.”