Sometimes things clicked.
People clicked.
I was a whole-hearted believer in things others rolled their eyes at. Like love-at-first-sight. Like soulmates.
I believed that sometimes you recognized someone; you saw a lifetime of ups and downs in their eyes. You could see your children, your children’s children; you could see all the pieces of both your lives coming together into this perfect puzzle you could call forever.
And it happened in an instant.
In that instant, as Lincoln crawled back into the bed with me, as he rolled me to face him, as he wrapped his arms around me, as he pressed a kiss to mine, as his eyes held my gaze, it happened.
Just like that.
In his eyes, I could see my future.
Our future.
The recognition of it had a painful tightening in my chest, something that made breathing difficult.
“What?” Lincoln asked, brows drawing together.
“What what?” I shot back, feigning ignorance.
“You have an odd look in your eyes.”
I couldn’t tell him.
Not yet.
As a general rule, I believed that if you felt it, you should express it, that all our emotions were valid, that it was disingenuous to hide them, that you were doing others a disservice to keep them inside, that generosity of yourself was what created the strongest, most lasting bonds.
But I also understood that others didn’t always think the way I did. Men and women both. But especially so in some men. Ones who were raised to avoid roots, to seek shallowness, and superficiality.
I didn’t think of Lincoln as shallow or superficial, but I understood the often very male-centric world he lived in, the way movies and TV and even music told men that women who had feelings too quickly were scary or pathetic.
No one was supposed to say that they just saw their entire lives fall into place after they had sex with someone for the first time.
Regardless of it being the truth, I chose to keep that to myself. Not forever, but for a while, until it was right.
“I can’t move,” I admitted instead, watching as his eyes lit up, as his smile spread. Proud of himself. As he should be.
“Luckily, neither of us have anywhere we need to be today. We can stay right here like this.”
We couldn’t, of course. Not really. Now that everyone knew about me and my problem, the likelihood of them coming up to check on me was high.
I wasn’t opposed to the idea of letting everyone in on what was going on. In fact, I kinda wanted to shout it from the rooftops. But I also knew that Lincoln had already gotten a stern lecture. He likely wasn’t thrilled at the idea of another one so quickly. And this time, it likely wouldn’t just be from Quin.
I was a grown woman. I was smart enough to make my own choices when it came to the opposite sex. That being said, it did warm my heart a bit to realize that I had so many people in my life who cared enough about me to lecture a man I had chosen to bring into my life.
It would come from them all, I was sure. Quin especially, the man who acted a bit like a father figure to us all.
And Gunner because he had always been a bit protective.
Smith and Finn and Jules. Kai would give him a talking-to in a friendlier way, as was his nature.
Miller and Nia would even have something to say just because of sisterhood.
Ranger, well, by the time he ever found out, there would be nothing to say.
Bellamy, yeah, I simply had a hard time picturing him doing anything as serious as a lecture. Surely, he had qualities that required seriousness. He was a successful businessman, after all. On top of that, he was someone who executed others. For moral reasons, and now for money. I couldn’t imagine he did that while rambling on about how a very famous actor had a fetish about bopping around on giant balloons. He had to have been capable of being a rational adult, but I simply couldn’t picture it, so I couldn’t imagine him being that person to try to defend me. That said, I would be happy to be wrong in a selfish little way.
I loved that they all cared.
But I also wanted to spare Lincoln that. For a while. It would be inevitable, as I was sure we both knew. If we could get a little more time in, though, I figured it would be an easier reality for them to accept.
If I could get past that magic three-month period when most of Lincoln’s previous relationships fizzled–or imploded–then I was pretty sure they would all believe us when we said this wasn’t something silly, something superficial, something bound to fail.
“When all this is over, you have to figure out something really awesome to do to celebrate,” he suggested, absentmindedly sifting his fingers through my hair.