Chapter 44

What do you do with a day, when you’ve already done it all?

My answer: nothing.

At least not really.

If this day truly does end, there’s a host of things I’ll do. I’ll do a repeat of all my favourite moments—giving opera tickets to the doorman, trying to befriend Marigold, planning a killer belated birthday bash for Beth that has all her ideas combined, and trouncing Grant’s friends at game night.

I’ll also do all the things I haven’t yet done. I’ll cook with Shelly in the kitchen and show Rhiannon that someone cares. I’ll quit my job and cite all the times I did Dominic’s work for him.

But for today, on what might be the last hurrah of a very long day, I just want to spend it with the man I love.

Because that’s what matters.

It doesn’t matter what I do with my time. It matters who I spend it with. My legacy won’t be tied to hours worked or claps of approval on the back. It will be measured in laugh lines and kisses.

And so, with a light heart, Grant and I take some leftovers from breakfast, and he flies us to a pinprick of an island off the coast that consists almost entirely of a hill. He sets us down at the peak and we spend the day recounting our journey.

From my perspective, lovers to enemies, to allies, to lovers.

From his, lovers through and through. Albeit, with short bursts of intense distrust on my end.

We laugh about karaoke duets and snacks gone wrong. We cry about broken perceptions and broken bodies. We celebrate our triumphs and our falling in love. We talk about the future, should we be so lucky.

Then, as the sun fades into a mosaic of impossibly warm colours, we stop talking all together. Instead, I sit with my head on his shoulders, and we just are. Despite the fact that we’ve only technically known each other for a day, Grant knows every knot and gnarl of my imperfect soul. Words aren’t needed for us to speak.

When the sunset fades completely, giving way to only the most determined stars who peek past the city haze, our lips find each other’s, and we finally get to take our time exploring our physical connection.

He kisses every part of my body. At least, until his kisses become both a request and a promise. His fingers take on the task that his mouth started in discovering every part of me. They move inside me while he presses a long kiss to the center of my chest, right over my heart, before moving on to suck at my breasts.

Inside me, he thrusts and curls. Outside, he sucks and nibbles. Together, it all brings me to the panting edge of elation before I know it.

And then he stops.

“What time is it?” he asks, in a terrible demonstration of reading the room.

“Excuse me?”

Grant shakes his head. “I mean, how close to midnight is it? I want to take my time and fuck you slow and thoroughly, but I also don’t want to…”

“Get sucked back into the reset while you’re in the middle of adding banana to the fruit salad?” I finish.

Grant laughs, showing that he’s learning to tell when I’m actually joking. “Not how I would have put it, but exactly.”

“Let’s be optimistic,” I say, pulling his body against mine and kissing him with an unhurried passion.

When Grant pushes himself all the way inside of me, we pause. With our foreheads together, our breath mingles as we whisper our declarations of love into the night.

Then, he claims me. Not in the growly, animalistic way that he’s done before, but by reaching every single part of my body and soul. And by loving every single part that he finds.

I claim him right back by wrapping my legs around him and loving him just as he is. My perfect, dorky, loving Grant.

When we come together, it’s still with touching foreheads and whispers of love because sometimes everything changes, even while nothing changes at all.

Except for my trusty watch that’s rolled over past midnight.

The day is over.

Allof this is over.

It’s finally over.

And, also, just getting started.