We cleaned the dishes,and then, for the first time, we snuggled up together on the couch, me watching the news, wanting to see what was being said about Weaver’s death, and him trying not to fall asleep, tucked into my side, my arm around him.
“Thank you for not filling up your schedule this year,” I said before he nodded off. “I just want you to be with me all the time.”
“I want that too,” he whispered, and I could tell he was a bit overwhelmed by that confession.
“I’m not trying to smother you or not let you be the artist you want to be, but I—”
“I know,” he said, lifting his head to kiss my jaw. “You want me home with you. I want that too. We’ll figure out the rest.”
“Okay,” I managed to get out.
“Hey,” Cel said, and I looked down into his eyes. “I didn’t thank you for yesterday,” he murmured. “Thank you for making one of the worst days of my life so much better.”
“You’re welcome, but really, that’s the only way it could have gone. I’ll always show up for you. Always.”
He cuddled closer, and I tightened my arm around him.
“Don’t get sick of me,” I said after a moment.
“I promise you, that could never happen.”
“You say that now, but I’ve been told a lot that I’m about as romantic as a table.”
“Then it’s a good thing I like tables. They’re functional, and they hold things, so I wouldn’t worry.”
“Yeah, but––”
Cel grunted. “And I don’t need to be romanced, just loved.”
“Yeah. But five years from now when you’re yelling at me because I forgot our wedding anniversary and never take you out for dinner, it’s going to be an issue.”
His breath caught.
“What’s wrong?” I asked, worried.
“The things that come out of your—five-year wedding anniversary?”
I was confused. “Yeah? What about it?”
He leaned out of my arms, sitting up to turn around and look at me. “You just assume that we’ll get married and be together for––”
“Why wouldn’t we get married?” He was making no sense. “Are you listening to yourself?” I groused at him.
“That’s rich coming from you,” he said, laughing softly, and it was a good sound. “Eli Kohn, the things that have come out of your mouth over the years. You kill me.”
“That doesn’t sound like a good thing.”
“It is, though.” He sighed deeply, curling back up against me, snuggling up close, kissing my throat. “I adore you even though you’re stupid.”
“I’m what now?”
“Never mind. Focus on theI love youpart.”
“Okay,” I agreed. He loved me. I knew that.
“And by the way, I can make dinner reservations for us just as well as you can, and so you know, you’re excellent at remembering important dates.”
“I am?”