The Real

“I have a seven o’clock meeting,” he said, pressing a kiss to my lips before retrieving his phone. “Get back in bed.”

“We just went to sleep,” I said, grumbling before I made my way to bed and pulled my comforter over me.

Cameron walked out a few minutes later, straightening his tie. I loved watching him dress for work. I reveled in the package he presented to the world and the fact that I was the only woman who got to open it every night.

“You must be so tired,” I said, feeling my own exhaustion set in.

“I’m good,” he said, leaning over me, giving me a whiff of his heavenly scent before he pressed a kiss to my forehead. “I’ve got meetings all day, but I’ll be back tonight. Dinner?”

“Sure,” I said.

“I’m telling you now, tonight, we talk.”

That time I didn’t object. I nodded.

“Okay.”

“I love you, Abbie, so fucking much,” he murmured as he brought his lips to mine.

He left me a sated believer.

I woke up later that morning with a stretch and lazy smile. We’d done nothing the night before but make serious love in every sense of the word. And in the middle of the night, in a snooze filled recoup, we reached for each other with the need to stay connected. He’d taken me again and again as we tangled my sheets, drenched.

I was physically spent but had the promise of so much more to get me through my morning routine. Between the sheets, Cameron had much more to offer than I could have dreamt of, but the evidence of his appetite stung between my legs as I gripped the pillow full of his clean scent and inhaled.

I clung to those promises. They told me I had a new life to look forward to, one filled with we instead of I. A happy tear trickled down my cheek as I thought of dancing with Cameron at Bree’s wedding.

Futuristic visions flooded my mind of repeats of opening gifts together on Christmas morning at his father’s house, of more gluttonous dinners at Mrs. Zingaro’s, of another New Year’s kiss.

I already had those memories with Cameron but vied for more. And we hadn’t missed a day together since the beginning of the year.

I knew without a shadow of a doubt, the next week when cupid came to taunt the single thirty-somethings of Wicker Park, I would finally be spared.

For the first time since we started dating, I dared myself to dream of bigger milestones. At that moment, I didn’t care if marriage was in the cards, I wasn’t dreaming of our future children. Yet. It had only been months and that didn’t matter in comparison to how desperately in love we were.

But I knew, without a doubt, any life with him as my best friend and lover would suffice no matter what we turned out to be. One day I would want more, dream of more, but for the moment I was content with the hope of us and how it felt to be with him.

I wanted to make him smile, make him happy. That was my only want. And needing him was a given.

I needed Cameron and he needed me right back. He’d been just as starved to give his heart away, and it was only until we were both certain about the other that we took the leap with faith and trust on both our parts.

Sometimes I think I placed too much importance on having what I thought I was missing. Again, my mother was right. For the first time in my life I wanted what I had.

Sweet relief.

I found him.

Well technically, he found me.

But I wasn’t keeping score.

I smiled at my reflection as I went through my morning ritual, brushed my teeth, and hesitantly washed the smell of him off my skin.

On the train to work, I relived every minute of our time together.

Walking down the street toward Preston Corp, I swayed my hips as “Closer” by the Chainsmokers serenaded my trek, though the idea of the big reveal happening that night put a slight damper on my mood. But if he was sure we could work through whatever we unpacked, I had faith.

When I exited the elevator, Kat looked over at me from her office and read my face. I didn’t hide it.