Chapter 22: Start Over

His mouth found mine, and the whole snowy night went quiet.

He kissed me slowly, and I let him for about ten seconds.

Then I took the front of his sweater in both fists and walked him backward to the bed.

"Leave the lamp on," I said.

"Cassia."

"Last time it was dark, and it was a fight. I want to see you."

He reached over and clicked the bedside lamp to its brightest.

Yellow light fell over his face, and over his hands, and over the old pale hook of the scar on his left one.

I pulled his sweater over his head.

I dropped it on the floor and put my palms on his bare chest and felt his heart going hard under them.

"You're thinner," I said.

"I'm working on it."

"Don't. I like you like this."

I sat him down on the edge of the mattress and stood between his knees.

I took off my own clothes slowly, one piece at a time, with the lamp shining on every inch of me.

My cardigan.

My shirt.

My jeans, and everything under them.

I am not a small woman.

I have soft hips and a stomach that doesn't lie flat and thighs that touch at the top.

I stood there and let him look.

He looked at me for a long moment, with his lips parted and his hands fisted on his knees.

"You are," he said, and stopped, and tried again. "I've thought about this body every night for five months. I never got it right."

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