Page 144 of Error Handling

“I know what I want.”

Chris wraps his arms around me and pulls me in for a long, slow kiss. I might need a heart transplant when this is all over.

“Um.” I bite my lip when he pulls away. “So, you’re not mad at me?”

He pulls me close again, fills his lungs, and sighs as he presses his lips to my forehead.

We stand quietly for a moment, and then he says, “Let’s sit down and talk.”

He guides me to the couch, and we sit, but he doesn’t talk. He pulls me in, and our lips meet. He threads his fingers through my hair and kisses my neck. Suddenly talking doesn’t interest me much either. He lies back against the cushions and takes me with him. My fingers itch to feel his hair and I oblige. I guess this means things aren’t over between us.

Several minutes later, I lay my head against his chest and listen to his heartbeat. He strokes my arm as I fiddle with his T-shirt.

“Should we talk now?” I ask.

He chuckles and I feel the vibration against my cheek.

“We should,” he says.

We sit up, but I continue leaning against him. He finds my hand and wraps his around it.

“Christopher tracked me down yesterday,” he says.

I widen my eyes at my flatscreen TV. My face goes red. “Um, what?”

“He paid for a six-month subscription to At Your Service just to ping me.”

“O...kay.”

“He showed me your text. The one where you told him not to contact you anymore.”

I nod.

“And he said you’re mine. He said I could have you. He’s not going to fight for you anymore.”

I turn my head and peek at Chris. “That’s...weird.”

“Why?”

“I’m not a possession.”

Chris straightens and gently pivots my shoulders so we’re face to face. “I know. You’re not. This is about you and what you want.”

“Chris, I want you. I’m sorry I made you question it. I should have been more open with you knowing your history.”

Chris’s shoulders slump in concession. “I have baggage.”

“We’ve talked about this. I have luggage too. It’s in my closet.”

Chris laughs. “Mine is old and dented and full of holes.”

“We can buy you new luggage for your trip to Puerto Rico.”

He looks down, takes another deep breath, and rests his hand on my knee. When we meet eyes again, he says, “I think I’m still going to go.”

“I know. And it will be okay. You don’t have to worry about Christopher and me. That’s over. Completely.”

Chris nods.