Chapter 17: Say It Out Loud

The chief gave him a week's leave and said the letter would go to the board on Monday.

We drove home in separate cars, and Damian's taillights stayed in my mirror the whole way.

At the house he stood in the hall with his duffel and looked at the dish by the door.

My ring was on my hand. His was still in the dish where he'd left it.

He picked it up and turned it over.

"Put it on," I said.

"Do you want it on?"

"I want it on. I want all of it."

He slid it on, and his hand wasn't steady, which I had never seen.

I took his face in both hands.

"Tonight there's nothing I'm not telling you," I said. "Ask me anything."

"Anything?"

"Collect your evening, Damian. I owe you one."

His eyes went dark.

"This isn't about the terms," he said.

"I know. That's why I'm offering."

He kissed me against the front door, and it was nothing like the stairwell.

It was slow, and it asked a question, and I answered it with my whole mouth.

He walked me backward up the stairs without breaking the kiss.

In our bedroom the lamp was on.

The bed was made the way I always made it, with the blue quilt turned down.

"You kept the side," he said, looking at the empty pillow.

"I never moved."

His breath caught.

He undid the buttons of my dress one at a time, and at each one he kissed the skin that came uncovered.

My collarbone. The center of my chest. The soft place under my ribs.

"Faster," I said.

"No."

"Damian."

"You made me wait two years," he said against my stomach. "You can wait ten minutes."

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