clenching painfully. My feelings for him have come on so fast that sometimes I wonder if I didn't have them all along, locked up in some secret compartment in my heart that I'd never had access to before. He's unlocked so many things within me.
Kissing my fingers tenderly, he shakes his head back and forth. “Never,” he vows. He leans in and kisses me again, and as our tongues tangle, I think I might just believe him.
When our bodies finally recover enough to make it all the way to the shower, I absolutely insist that Walt joins me. You know, to save water and stuff. I'm just conscientious that way. Walt doesn't exactly complain, and we have a lot of fun getting all soapy and wet and dirty again.
We're exhausted when we finally pass out in Walt's bed. He tucks me into his chest, spooning me from behind.
“I love you,” he murmurs sleepily into my hair when he thinks I've fallen asleep. It doesn't surprise me, not anymore. It isn't the first time he's said it when he thinks I can't hear him.
And I know that soon, very soon, when I'm sure that these feelings I have for him – the ones that make my heart race and my body warm all over, the ones that make me feel breathless with excitement yet safe and content at the same time – when I'm completely and totally sure that those feelings are love. . .then I'm going to say it back.
I can't wait for that day.
Epilogue
Walt
A few weeks later. . .
NATHAN'S A HELL of a guy; the dude really pulled through for me. Ibbie and I took some of my best work down to her hometown so he could have a proper look, because a photograph just ain't the same, and he was really enthusiastic. Showing my art was never something I'd had the courage to do before, but for the first time in my life I feel like I'm traveling down the path I really want for myself. And it's all thanks to Ibbie. The whole thing was scary as shit at first, but she's unstoppable when she puts her mind to something and she refused to let me chicken out.
That was a week ago. Now, I glance down and straighten my tie, feeling uncomfortable in my all black suit. But tonight I'm supposed to be making a good impression, and Ibbie told me I needed to dress up smart. I'd refused at first, but then she went and got all fucking naked and when she does that I find myself agreeing to anything she asks of me. Nathan's gallery is pretty big and definitely successful, and I'm not the only artist whose work is being shown tonight, but so far people seem to like my stuff. When he explained to me the stickers by my pieces meant that they had already sold, I almost fell to the fucking ground. I owe the guy a lot – I doubt any other gallery owner would have made this happen for me so quickly.
People dressed up in fancy clothes are milling around the room, appreciating the art, eating canapes, talking over the low background music. But my eyes are drawn only to one woman. Sensing my gaze, Ibbie turns from the picture she'd been studying, shooting me a beautiful smile as her eyes meet mine. She saunters over in that tiny red dress – the one I'd ended up yanking off her the first time I'd seen it tonight because I'd needed to take her right then and there – and hands me a glass of champagne. It's not my kind of drink but I accept it anyway, cringing when the bubbles fizz on my tongue.
“Hey there,” she says, grinning up at me adoringly. She's been practically bursting with pride for me ever since we got here. The look on her face matches everything I feel inside each time I see her up on stage. It's moments like these that it really hits home how much she cares about me. Not gonna lie, I'd doubted it at first. I was too enshrouded by my own insecurities and the knowledge of what an ass I'd been to her. Half of me had thought she'd only wanted me physically, and the other half just kept on waiting to wake up. But the more time we spend together, the more I'm realizing how important I am to her – maybe almost as important as
Kissing my fingers tenderly, he shakes his head back and forth. “Never,” he vows. He leans in and kisses me again, and as our tongues tangle, I think I might just believe him.
When our bodies finally recover enough to make it all the way to the shower, I absolutely insist that Walt joins me. You know, to save water and stuff. I'm just conscientious that way. Walt doesn't exactly complain, and we have a lot of fun getting all soapy and wet and dirty again.
We're exhausted when we finally pass out in Walt's bed. He tucks me into his chest, spooning me from behind.
“I love you,” he murmurs sleepily into my hair when he thinks I've fallen asleep. It doesn't surprise me, not anymore. It isn't the first time he's said it when he thinks I can't hear him.
And I know that soon, very soon, when I'm sure that these feelings I have for him – the ones that make my heart race and my body warm all over, the ones that make me feel breathless with excitement yet safe and content at the same time – when I'm completely and totally sure that those feelings are love. . .then I'm going to say it back.
I can't wait for that day.
Epilogue
Walt
A few weeks later. . .
NATHAN'S A HELL of a guy; the dude really pulled through for me. Ibbie and I took some of my best work down to her hometown so he could have a proper look, because a photograph just ain't the same, and he was really enthusiastic. Showing my art was never something I'd had the courage to do before, but for the first time in my life I feel like I'm traveling down the path I really want for myself. And it's all thanks to Ibbie. The whole thing was scary as shit at first, but she's unstoppable when she puts her mind to something and she refused to let me chicken out.
That was a week ago. Now, I glance down and straighten my tie, feeling uncomfortable in my all black suit. But tonight I'm supposed to be making a good impression, and Ibbie told me I needed to dress up smart. I'd refused at first, but then she went and got all fucking naked and when she does that I find myself agreeing to anything she asks of me. Nathan's gallery is pretty big and definitely successful, and I'm not the only artist whose work is being shown tonight, but so far people seem to like my stuff. When he explained to me the stickers by my pieces meant that they had already sold, I almost fell to the fucking ground. I owe the guy a lot – I doubt any other gallery owner would have made this happen for me so quickly.
People dressed up in fancy clothes are milling around the room, appreciating the art, eating canapes, talking over the low background music. But my eyes are drawn only to one woman. Sensing my gaze, Ibbie turns from the picture she'd been studying, shooting me a beautiful smile as her eyes meet mine. She saunters over in that tiny red dress – the one I'd ended up yanking off her the first time I'd seen it tonight because I'd needed to take her right then and there – and hands me a glass of champagne. It's not my kind of drink but I accept it anyway, cringing when the bubbles fizz on my tongue.
“Hey there,” she says, grinning up at me adoringly. She's been practically bursting with pride for me ever since we got here. The look on her face matches everything I feel inside each time I see her up on stage. It's moments like these that it really hits home how much she cares about me. Not gonna lie, I'd doubted it at first. I was too enshrouded by my own insecurities and the knowledge of what an ass I'd been to her. Half of me had thought she'd only wanted me physically, and the other half just kept on waiting to wake up. But the more time we spend together, the more I'm realizing how important I am to her – maybe almost as important as
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