Page 103 of Soup Sandwich
His head pivots, and he glances down at me as I glance up at him. Our eyes hold for a long moment, and then he leans down and kisses me. Callan Barrows gives me the sweetest kiss of my life, and it’s only made sweeter because I am totally butt-crazy in love with him.
The three of us eat dinner together, and then I clean up the entire kitchen while he takes Katy upstairs and gets her ready for bed. Tonight is Sunday, and tomorrow Katy has camp, and Callan and I have school and then work.
I finish up the kitchen, shut off all the lights downstairs, and then go upstairs. Katy is singing “Part of Your World” fromThe Little Mermaidas Callan braids her long hair into pigtails to give her mermaid waves when she wakes up.
He went from bachelor to single dad overnight and hasn’t complained about any of it. Not once. No self-pity or second-guessing or despair over losing his bachelor status and freedom. He takes life as it hits him and adjusts accordingly, and that’s that.
It’s a strength so few possess.
“After you brush your teeth, can I read you a story?” I ask from the doorway of Katy’s bathroom.
“Will you readThe Pigeon Needs a Bath?”
“Definitely,” I tell her. “It’s my favorite.”
Katy quickly goes through the motions of brushing her teeth while Callan prompts her along the way, and then she and I are snuggled up in her bed as I read to her, and we both giggle at the pigeon who refuses to take a bath even though he’s past the point of being smelly and dirty.
She has me read it to her a second time, but before I reach the last page, she’s out like a light. As gently as possible, I climb out of her bed, kissing her forehead as I go. “Good night, Ladybug. Sweet dreams.” I pause. Gulp. “I love you.”
Tiptoeing out of her room, I shut the door with a soft click, and then I gather my breath before heading straight into Callan’s room. He’s sitting up in bed, still dressed but barefoot, as he reads a freaking medical journal. I shut the door behind me and pull my shirt up and over my head, tossing it onto the chair in the corner.
“You never take a break, do you?”
The journal falls to his lap as he watches me get to work on the button and zipper of my white jeans. Those fall to the floor along with my underwear, leaving me naked.
“Not often,” he admits, his voice gravelly as his gaze smolders. He sets the journal down on his nightstand and then shifts his position, uncrossing his legs as I climb on the bed, crawling straight for him.
I straddle his thighs and drag my fingers through his hair, tilting his head back until our eyes lock. “You’re the most incredible man I know, and considering the men in my life, that’s saying a lot. I don’t know how to begin telling you what that room upstairs means to me.”
His hands meet my hips, sliding me back and forth along his hard length. “I don’t know how to begin telling you what you mean to me. You’re mine.”
“Yours,” I say, and then pull back enough to look at him and ask him something that seems to knock the wind from his body. “Will you say it?”
He blinks. “Say what? That I love you?”
A soft, almost girlish smile curls up my lips. He hasn’t said those words to me again since that night in the hallway. But right now, that’s shockingly not what I’m after.
“No. What you said to me that day in your school office. What you say to me a lot when you’re inside me.”
It’s as if he’s working the farthest reaches of his mind, trying to discern what he’s said and what precisely I’m asking for. “Help a guy out?”
I smash the crease between his eyebrows and then kiss a line up his throat. “Stay with me.”
“Those were never intentional words. Those were a plea. A prayer. A hope based on nothing.” He clears his throat, and I kiss right where his Adam’s apple bobs. “Will you?” he asks softly. “Will you stay with me? Even when this arrangement ends. Even if it gets tough. Even if we fight. Even if we’re so screwed up that we’re both stumbling around in the dark, unsure how to make this all work.” He grabs my head and forces my gaze to his. “Will you stay with me, Layla? Even then?”
My body climbs his, seeking more contact, needing to be closer. “Yes,” I pant against him, my tongue licking the seam of his lips. “Yes, I’ll stay with you. You and Katy both.”
My heart pounds, but not in a scary way. In a way that’s thrilling and death-defying. In a way that’s telling me this is the way it’s always meant to beat. For him.
I layer my lips with his, our eyes one, and I say, “I love you.”
Bewilderedly he stares back at me. “You do?”
I giggle lightly. “How could I not? I trust you with myself, with my heart, with my life, with my future. I want this, Callan. I want us.”
“Layla.” That’s the only warning I get before his mouth slams down on mine. This is more than friendship. More than lust. More than an agreement. No longer fake, this is real, and undeniable, and so powerful, I’m shaking with it.
He breaks the kiss, breathing hard. “Say it again.”