Paper crowns and declarations
Pizza boxes and empty wine bottles litter the apartment floor. The sun has long set, the room lit only by the lights of passing cars and the flickering light of the T.V screen.
Oak snores softly in his bed, Taryn asleep on the blow-up mattress beside his. I can hear Vivi and Heather murmuring from their room. Laughing together. Happy.
The credits roll from the film no one was watching. Cardan is asleep beside me, head tilted back, stupid paper crown still askew atop his black curls. My stomach flips, a feeling very much like fear fluttering inside. Just like fear, but not quite.
I run a finger over his cheekbone, barely touching him. His eyes flutter open, black and bright. I yank my hand back.
"Contemplating slitting my throat, darling wife?" His voice is low, sensuous mouth lifting into a grin.
"I…" I trail off, the quip at the tip of my tongue vanishing before I can speak it. I feel disarmed.
"Jude?"
He is waiting for me to say something…anything. The grin fades, replaced with a cautious smile.
"I love you." The words tumble from my mouth just like they had the first time I said them. Rushed and nonsensical. Cardan blinks, I hear him suck in a breath.
"I love you," I repeat, slower. "I probably won't tell you as much as I ought to, but I do. And my heart may be hardened and cold and unused to this, but it is yours." I smile and bring my hand to his cheek again, he doesn't move. "I figured you already knew, but just in case you didn't."
Cardan's long fingers close over mine. "Say it again."
"I figured you already…"
He nudges me, and the paper crown slips further over his eyes. I reach up to straighten it with a grin.
"I love you."
He closes his eyes. "Again."
"I love you."
"Again." His mouth brushes mine, tasting of cheap wine.
I love you."
His kisses are soft and so are his hands as they slip beneath the throw. I am too aware of Oak and Taryn, sleeping in the next room. To Vivi and Heather, their hushed whispers still sounding from their bedroom. I wonder if they too, wished for more privacy.
Cardan's hands tighten around me, pulling me closer, tucking my head beneath his chin. We stay like that, beneath the old throw, on the tatty sofa that's not quite big enough to sleep on. And we don't say anything more.
Because we don't need to.