He led me up the stairs and into his bedroom, a large, airy space with floor to ceiling windows and a king-sized platform bed. There was probably more furniture in the room, but I didn’t notice it.
We fell onto the bed and into each other. We kissed as if it had been years, our limbs twined like ivy. I could hardly breathe, but it didn’t scare me. I wanted him to smother me, wanted to suffocate on his love. “I need you,” I whispered over and over again.
It was an unfamiliar kind of need, physical and emotional—my body demanded he fill the aching hollow inside it and my heart begged to escape my chest and be cradled by his. I looked up at him as he slid inside me, his face lit solely by the nighttime lights of the city below. “Quinn.” My voice shook with the panic I felt at finally letting the feeling overtake me, at not being able to describe it.
“I know,” he said, rolling over me, rocking into me as my eyes closed in ecstasy. “I feel it.”
Thank God, I thought as he filled me. Thank God I don’t have to find words. All I had were gasps and sighs, inarticulate cries of pleasure and pain, and breathless moments of agony at the peak, my hands clutching and pulling him closer, closer, closer…would it ever be enough?
And then I had tears, welling up and spilling over as our eyes locked and breath mingled and bodies contracted around one another’s in a long, suspended moment of euphoric release. My fear was gone.
“I’m sorry,” I wept once I could talk. “I don’t know why I’m crying. I swear I’m happy.”
“I know why.” He kissed my forehead. “And it’s OK.”
“Are you going to tease me about this tomorrow?”
“No, sweet pea. I’m not.”
“Thank you.”
“I’m going to tease you about it for the rest of our lives.”
I laughed, swatting him on the butt. “Figures.”
“You OK with that?” He brushed my hair off my face.
“With what?”
“The fact that I want this for the rest of my life.”
My stomach swooshed, but it was a good kind of swoosh. The kind of swoosh you feel on a rollercoaster—equal parts trepidation and excitement. “Honestly? Yes. I’m OK with that. Tonight when I made the toast, I said it was Alex and Nolan who made me believe in love, but you know it wasn’t just them.”
He smiled. “I know.”
“I don’t know how you did it.”
“I didn’t, Jaime—you did. I fell in love with you, but you had to open yourself up to it. And you did.”
“Eventually.”
“Eventually. And I think once you felt it, you saw it in others. Not just as something beautiful but fleeting and superficial, but as something deeper.”
“I did.” I thought for a moment. “It’s like the difference between a wedding and a marriage. A wedding is all about the show, but a marriage is about commitment you can’t see. All those things you said to me at Alex’s birthday finally made sense.”
“Good. Does this mean you want to get married?”
My heart stopped. “You’re killing me. One thing at a time, please.”
“That wasn’t a no. I’ll take it.” He kissed my lips, his tongue teasing inside them.
“I do love you, Quinn. And it is real, even though I’ve always thought you were too good to be true.”
“I hope you always think that,” he said, “even when I’m old and bald and fat and can’t get it up anymore.” He picked up his head. “Forget I said that. I’ll always get it up for you.”
I laughed, locking my legs around him. “I’ll hold you to it, love bug.”
The next morning, Quinn ran out for coffee and bagels while I lounged around his condo in one of his T-shirts. When he got back, we were going to compare calendars and check out some resorts in the Caribbean—Quinn wanted to take me on vacation, and I’d gleefully said yes.
I dug my phone out of my purse and checked messages, and then I couldn’t resist checking Instagram. He’d taken a bunch of goofy pictures of me this morning, despite my protests and many a pillow thrown at his head.
Sure enough, there was one of me, but I was sleeping soundly, my dark hair a bedraggled mess on the white pillowcase, but my expression serene. He must have snuck it this morning, because the light was soft and pale.
My breath caught as I read the caption: You know I will.
Nothing else, no silly hashtags or jokes, just four simple words from the song we’d danced to last night, his childhood lullaby. I smiled.
Someone else might have wanted a more obvious declaration for the world to see, or maybe have wondered, you will what? But he knew me. And I knew I could finish it a million ways…love you, respect you, tease you, support you, laugh with you, talk to you, listen to you, stay with you. Always.
I will, too, Quinn.
I will too.