Kyle, will you come with me?” He whispered the words against her forehead between kisses. His hands traveled over her back as if the Bible were written in Braille on her sundress.
“I’m your shadow now, Cole. I’ll be where you are.” Kyle smiled, her eyes steady on his.
Livia reached out to touch Blake’s lower back. She outlined a heart with her finger. I’m proud of you, no matter what happens here.
Debra AnastasiaLivia grinned. He peeled his attention from the sizzling meal and put his hands on the counter behind her, trapping her.
Livia held her spatula as Blake whispered in her ear. “I see us just like this a hundred years from now, old and deaf. I’ll be the luckiest man.”
Emotion caught her—this was all she wanted. Simple, beautiful frittata moments with this man.
“Someday, Livia, I’ll be man enough to buy the food,” he continued. “I’ll give you an oven. I’ll try so hard.”
Livia leaned up and stopped his proclamations with her lips. After tender kisses, she gave her mouth enough room to promise back. “Blake, I’ll never care if I have an oven. Just you.
Don’t pray to me. Don’t pray to me!” Kyle said, her eyes widening in alarm. “We’re in this together. I’ve done things wrong too. We’re human, Cole. We’ll still make mistakes, but now we’ll always have each other to hold when it hurts.” Kyle’s eyes filled with tears.
Debra AnastasiaLivia, I’ve imposed enough. I don’t need to take any more of your food.”
Livia shook her head as well. “Yes. Yes, you do. You really do. I need to see you eat until you’re full. That will be a gift to me. A pleasure for me. Be full—that’s all I ask in return for making you this meal.
Can I make you something to eat?” She watched his lips for an answer.
“I wouldn’t want to trouble you.” Blake smiled.
He knows I won’t give up. “You’re my favorite kind of trouble. Please?” Livia batted her eyelashes and pouted elaborately.
“Yes, tempting Livia, you may feed me. Thank you.” He touched her lips with a single finger.
He looked at her, but he was only a shadow now. Livia gave him a warning look. He shook his head sadly and in total defeat. Standing in the house of a man who’d brought him food, with his daughter holding his hand, seemed to break some sort of honor code for Blake.
Livia felt her heart beating in her ears. “Don’t give up on me. Please,” she said softly.
Hasn’t life taught me well enough? Love is not mine to find. I’m a fool. Damn it to hell.
Debra AnastasiaLivia squeezed his hand. I’m not letting you go.
Debra AnastasiaHe seemed to be drinking in her face, looking at her instead of into her.
“Stop. Stop that. This isn’t goodbye.”
Blake pulled her left hand to his mouth and kissed her ring finger. “I’m still glad it’s empty. He never deserved you. Of that, I’m very sure.”
Livia saw moisture in his eyes. “You’re saying goodbye. No. Here’s what I’m sure of. I’ll walk away from this house right now, wearing only what I have on my back and be happy. With you I can taste forever—it’s right here.” Livia pointed at her lips and then kissed his.
Blake allowed the kiss, but mumbled a question as well, “How many shotguns does he have?”
“Not enough to get me away from you.” Livia traced his jaw.
Blake took her hand and kissed her palm, then her forehead, “Livia, go in there and let him talk to you. He’s a father. I’d want to talk to my daughter at a moment like this. Let’s give him that respect.”
“I will not go in there. Where will you go?”
Livia felt a gentle tug on her heart. She was torn. She wanted to comfort her dad and get him to understand who Blake was, but in as little time as possible so she could get back to Blake.
“My inamorata, you know where I’ll be: where I’ll always be. Waiting. For you.” Blake began putting the mask on.
Livia looked around wildly, feeling close to irrational. “I don’t want you to go.” These words were inadequate to express her need.
Blake smoothed her hair away from her face. “I’ve often wished I had a father. Let me help him be that. He needs you to himself for a just a little while.”
Livia’s love for her dad gave her the strength to step back and nod. She stood on the porch and watched Blake’s retreating form. Every once in a while he turned to wave, and just before he reached the end of her street, he stopped to look at her. Neither of them waved this time.
« ; premier précédent
Page 37 de 60.
suivant dernier » ;
Data privacy
Imprint
Contact
Diese Website verwendet Cookies, um Ihnen die bestmögliche Funktionalität bieten zu können.