another short and sweet chapter. all fluff :)
one more letter!
enjoy
Y is for Years
He asked me for two weeks.
Here I am, three years later, washing dishes and making pasta and waiting for him to get home.
We're called the LaFleurs, and this doesn't bother me anymore.
I can hear heavy footsteps on the porch and the door opens, closes. I strain the pasta with a smile I can't contain; he always pulls this reaction from me. Sometimes that bothers me. The difference is that I don't care.
He comes around the corner and I put the pot down and turn to him.
He pulls up a bright yellow flower and it's a sight I'll never forget. His dimples and stubble and that beautiful, god-awful purple shirt and rough worn jeans.
I school my features so I don't look so pleased; he's looking way too proud of himself.
I feel a smile on my face anyway. I feel warm all over.
"Is that for me?"
And then the flower is in my hand and his arms around my waist, my back is against the sink, he's smiling down at me and hugging me and I feel like I would gladly stay on this island forever if James would just not let go.
And then he kisses me, perfect lips, amazing taste, rough hands that are gentle on me when he pulls me close.
Soft hair. Strong muscles. And oh, the yellow flower.
The love.
My thought processes stop altogether and I just sink into the moment.
Three years suddenly seems like nothing and everything at the same time.
it's almost over!
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thanks for the support everyone!