California Dreamin'

Smiling, I nod. “Okay. An hour.”

Then I kiss him again and this time we don’t come up for air for what feels like eternity.

“Is this a message for me?” he growls after successfully stealing my breaths.

His eyes are dark and possessive. Almost as possessive as his grip is on my nightie, his knuckles brushing against the underside of my breasts.

Simon is the only person in this entire world who knows me completely. Who can map and chart my stretch marks from our two kids, who knows all the secret spots of my body and who can tell stories about them.

And it’s so heady to think that I’m the only person who can do the same with him.

It’s so heady how the love for my medicine man still flows in my veins the same way it did when I was eighteen and he was thirty-two.

“Yes,” I whisper, moving against him. “And you know what I’m thinking?”

His eyes are hooded and heavy. “What’s that?”

“I’m thinking that I haven’t thanked you for this ugly chair in a really long time.”

Arousal is stamped on his features as he looks at me like he always does. Like he has been since the day we met in that hallway at Heartstone.

“It’s okay,” he murmurs, his fingers pulling at the fabric of my nightie. “You’ll thank me now.”

“I will.”

For this chair and for the past twenty wonderful years and the twenty that are yet to come.

Dean lives a few blocks away from us.

I’ve been to his house before, numerous times of course. But this is the first time I’m seeing his house at midnight, covered in darkness. His windows, the roof, the porch.

Has it always looked so lonely, so aloof and desolate?

It reminds me of Dean.

Nobody lives here anymore. Or at least, not on the regular. Dean’s dad lives in Europe now. He retired and left just after Mia turned eighteen. It was not a pleasant time in her or Dean’s life, when his dad up and left just like that.

Anyway, Dean lived here all alone up until he left for California. And now when Mia comes back to visit, she usually stays with my mom and dad.

Dean pays someone for the upkeep of the house, the cleaning, the lawn etc.

When he went away and hardly ever came back or called, I would wonder if he’d sell the house. If he’d cut all ties from this place, from us, from me.

But now I know that he wouldn’t have done that.

He loves me. He does.

He never would’ve sold this place.

Even when he was in the throes of denial about my feelings, he never would’ve cut all ties to the place where we found each other.

Anyway, this house reminds me of how he was when I saw him five days ago, when we started our journey back home.

He was so… stern and tight and inflexible. So restrained and lonely. Dark.

Just like this house.

I don’t think he relaxed until last night, until he confessed his love for me. And then, I saw the last vestiges of tightness draining away from him today, when he was with my family.

Our family.

I can’t let him go back to being lonely, not when we’ve just found each other, not when he just got his family back.

So I snuck out of my house—something that I’ve never done before and something I don’t think I’m an expert at in any way.

I never wanted to do this. To sneak out like this behind my parents’ backs, behind my dad’s back. It feels like I’m betraying him or something, and the guilt of it is so heavy, heavier than I thought it would be.

But guilt or not, I have to see Dean. I have to make sure he’s okay after what happened.

What even happened?

My dad didn’t talk all throughout dinner and I was too sad and angry to ask him. I’ve had plenty of fights with my mother while growing up but I’ve never had an argument with Dad. I’ve always obeyed him, always did whatever he said.

Well, except for the two rebellions I recently had.

It doesn’t matter now. It doesn’t matter that I have to go behind my dad’s back because I can’t let Dean be alone.

He’s the man I love. I have to be with him. And tomorrow, I’ll make my dad understand that too. I’ll tell him that I love Dean and I’ll beg him not to make me choose.

For now though, here I am.

I’m at his door and I reach out and give it a loud knock.

A few seconds later, I hear footsteps approaching it and then a click followed by the door opening and revealing the love of my life.

My heart clenches at the sight of him.

At the sight of how messy and tired he looks. His hair’s standing up in spikes, his jaw dark with a five o’clock shadow, and his eyes are shadowed with worry and purple half-moons underneath.