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His teeth flash in the credit light when he grins.
Something in my chest pinches.
He’s genuinely thrilled to be here—with me. These past two weeks must have been awful for him. And now, because things have gone so wrong and left me unexpectedly vulnerable, he thinks I’ve chosen him.
When I haven’t.
When I can’t.
Taking a deep breath, I stand. Before he has a chance to follow, I slam my boot against the backrest, by his head, and lean in close. “Just so you know, I’m firmly grounded in reality. Nothing real scares me.”
Eerie calm holds his expression in a vice grip. “What’s all this? Are your control preferences acting up again? Don’t you know control is an arbitrary concept essentially absent in a healthy relationship?”
“Are you suggesting we have a healthy relationship?”
“On the spectrum of my past affairs, it is among the most high-functioning.”
I stare at him, eyes narrowed. “We don’t use functioning labels anymore. They’re a terrible indica…”
He tilts his head back, blissful, and watches me connect the dots. Like a jerk.
Refined, I mutter, “There’s nothing more annoying than someone who’s self-aware.”
His hand locks around my ankle and squeezes. “Does standing like this give you a false sense of superiority, princess?”
“None of my senses of superiority are false. Thank you very much.” I lean in deeper. “I’m just showing you how flexible I am, pet.”
Rowan’s cheeks tint in the dim yellow hue of the side lights as they brighten. “Impressive. But the only thing you’re really showing me, is your underwear.”
“Deal with it.”
Eyes firmly on mine, he puffs a laugh. “Trying to.”
Graceful, I mutter, “You thought I liked horror, didn’t you?”
“Sincerely.”
What an unhappy accident.
All of this is.
I thought I’d given myself enough time to come to my senses, but now that we’re back together, it’s as though Rowan’s possessed every fiber of my being. I’m floating. And no exorcist could hope to unweave our cells.
Slowly, I lift a finger to his cheek, trace the cut of his bone to his ear, and circle the shell.
His throat bobs. He whispers a breathless curse.
I have never seen anyone so beautiful.
Every line around his eyes. The more-defined creases between his brows. The darkening gleam in his irises. The way his pupils swallow them up the longer he watches me peruse him.
He’s…in love with me.
The truth hits me solidly in the chest, sending my heart thudding painfully into my ribs. I pull my hand away, free my ankle, and step back. Standing in the narrow space between our row of seats and the row just below us, I wash cold, flesh prickling.
He’s in love with me.
Since…when?
