36. Tyson

She’s hada permanent smile on her face since I revealed myself, and mine matches hers. I’ve wanted to touch and kiss her for so long, it feels like heaven to actually walk the bare streets of London, holding her hand. I’m a selfish son of a bitch for my role in this, but I can’t be bothered to care.

Not because I’m heartless—I can’t imagine the pain Tyree is going through now that he’s lost her. But for me, to focus on such things is pointless. I might be foul or even careless, but I’ll be those things with her by my side. Like I said, I know I’m selfish, but once I said the words that were burning a hole in my tongue, I didn’t give a fuck. Not about how he would handle losing her and not about our friendship.

I’d do anything for her, including being selfish enough for the both of us. I’m not delusional enough to think Tyree or even August will ever be friends of mine again. We won’t. August made his feelings clear, and I understand it. But given the choice, I’d follow the same path if it meant I was here in this moment, listening to her laughter mixed with London traffic, the cool weather pulling us closer for warmth, her hand clutched in mine as we walk the streets. I’d do it the same every fucking time.

I had the taxi drop us off a few blocks away so she could see the city.

“It’s so dreary,” she says, leaning into my shoulder. I pull my arm around her and hold her tighter.

“This is typical for March.” It’s funny being back here after so many months. It’ll never be home, but there’s comfort in the flow of traffic and the stone buildings in the backdrop. We walk into the hotel, and I guide us to the front desk.

“Hi. Mr. Jordan, checking in.”

The front desk attendant nods and types on the computer as Issa pulls me closer. “I can’t believe you’re at the same hotel.”

I look down and tilt my head. At seeing my expression, she laughs. I didn’t speed across town and run through the airport like a madman to be away from her when I got to London. Marissa sent me all the details so I could book a spot. Luckily, her taste in hotels is similar to mine.

“Can you have the luggage from Room 204 delivered to my suite, please?”

The attendant nods before saying, “Yes, sir.”

I finish check-in and pull Issa to the elevators.

“You never told me how you got here. What about your work?”

I grab her hands until she’s standing in front of me and smile down at her. “The perks of owning the company.” I shrug. I have Lance managing the day-to-day, so I’m not worried. When I called him on the way to the airport to tell him I would be gone for at least a week, he had questions, but I kept my answers short—important matters of a personal nature required me to drop everything. He didn’t buy it, and I’ll fill him in later, but I had no time to explain as I ran through the airport.

“I still can’t believe this is happening,” she says, with that smile I love spreading her lips.

“Believe it, baby,” I say. “How does it feel to be in London, by the way?”

She nods and looks back at the door opening on our floor.

“Unbelievable.”

We walk down the hall until I reach the door, and I slide the key card into the lock.

We walk into the suite, and the setup is nice. There’s a balcony with the curtains drawn open. The traffic of cars and people walking on the street is muted but creates a low buzz in the room. There’s a chaise lounge with curved detail and plush cushions. The bed is a canopy bed with sheer fabric gathered and pinned along the top rails.

“Wow, your room is much better than mine,” she says, walking ahead of me and looking back with her eyebrows hiked.

I take off my jacket and toss it on the chair next to the desk. She dips into the bathroom, and I can hear her laughter. Fuck! A shiver shoots down my spine, and the realization of finally devouring the sun fills my veins.

She comes back out, interrupting me from my thoughts, and jumps in place. “You have a clawfoot tub!”

“Do I?”

She takes off her coat and tosses it over mine. “Yes, and I’m definitely using it.”

I grab her hand and pull her into my chest. The soft rhythm of her breath fills my ears, and I release a content sigh.

“Is this weird? How close we seem to be?” she asks.

My first mind is to say falling in love could never be weird, but I don’t want to scare her, so I say, “Let’s just take this time to feel. To fall uninterrupted into all things our hearts desire…be it food or other things.” I wink, and she laughs.

“That sounds promising.” She pulls me into a hug, and I swear this is what I’ve dreamt of. The way my mind buzzes at her nearness, my knees damn near buckle. I clear my throat and hold her to me. I could drown in this—drown in the sweet scent of her perfume or the depth of her laughter when she lets go. I could drown and be happy to do so.

She stands on her tiptoes and puckers her lips. I lean down to meet her. With one hand behind her head, I grip her in place and kiss her slowly.

She runs her hands down my back and hooks her thumbs in my belt loop. The weight of her hands feels right, and I kiss her deeper.

Her phone rings, but I keep going, gripping her neck tighter. She groans, and I join her.

“I need to get that,” she says between kisses.

“Hmm.”

But I don’t move away; I hold her closer and kiss her jaw and neck.

“Come on, Tyson.”

I groan, but I let go and take a step back.

“Oh my gosh, you look like I just told you your puppy died.”

While extreme in some ways, it does feel like that. I’m still feeling the withdrawal from going without talking or seeing her for those few weeks. She smiles and jogs to answer her phone.

“Hello, I’m here.”

As she speaks, there’s a knock at the door. It’s her luggage. I thank the staff and pull the bags into the room.

I have a seat on the chaise lounge off to the side and listen to her. It sounds like it’s her parents, and she’s filling them in on what she did today. As she talks, I get an urge. I’ve been into poetry since I was eight. Writing and expressing myself has always been a part of me. Although I didn’t go into that field directly, having a PR firm still allows me to tap into my writing dreams.

I look at the desk and see a pad and pen laid out. I jump up and bring it back to my seat.

As she speaks, I let my words flow. I bleed on the page my deepest thoughts and desires.

The words come so easily, and I tear off the pages one by one and stuff them in my pocket for later as an idea sparks in my head.