“Yes, but I’ve been thinking about it for a while now, and this way I’ll be closer to you both,” he confessed. “It’s what I want.”
“That would be amazing, but––”
“You don’t want me to convert?”
“No, I––”
“Because your mother does,” Cel informed me. “She talks about it all the time.”
“She does? My mother wants you to convert?”
“Of course your mother wants me to convert,” he snapped at me. “She loves me!”
“She does,” I said, realizing I’d never fooled my mother. She’d known where my heart lived the entire time.
“Why’re you looking at me like that?”
“Because you’re so pretty,” I husked, and saw him shiver in spite of himself. I liked that my voice did things to him. “I like looking at you.”
Cel growled at me, and I chuckled and then gasped and pointed toward the balcony. “What isthat?” I tried for somewhere between frightened and shocked.
He shook his head. “Rookie move.”
“No?” I was disappointed.
“No.”
“What if there was actually something out there?”
“Like what? Spider-Man?” Cel said like I was nuts.
“You like Spider-Man,” I countered.
“That’s because he’s a lovely character dealing with the burden of losing people in his life while at the same time figuring out what kind of hero he’s meant to be.”
“You know,” I said, loving the way his eyes caught the light, “I could live with you a million years and never get tired of hearing the things that go through your head.”
I watched him take a breath before he started walking backward, away from the kitchen and toward the living room and the sectionals. He didn’t want to be chased anymore; he wanted to be caught.
“That’s a mistake,” I whispered.
“No, it’s not,” he said under his breath before he turned and darted.
I was on him fast, tackling him and driving him facedown into the middle of the sectional. “You let me get you.”
Cel made a noise that sounded like a short chuckle of happiness.
Not wanting to smother him, I rolled sideways, onto my back, and he was still there, lying prone as he turned his head so he could see me. I said, “Thank you for letting me get you and have you and keep you.”
“No take-backs,” Cel murmured. “You’re stuck with me.”
Staring at him for a moment, I reached out, pushed his hair back from his face, and tucked a lock behind his ear. “You have that wrong. I’m the lucky one, and you’re the one who’s stuck. I’m only going to get more grouchy and set in my ways the older I get. You’re on track to be the proud owner of a curmudgeon.”
“Yes, but there’s a doorman who brings up the takeout we order.”
“There is that,” I agreed.
Cel was laughing when I attacked him.