I gave him a nervous smile then continued. “I can’t stop thinking about your smile. I want to keep it in my pocket, keep it just for me, and take it out and look at it a hundred times a day.” A few women aaawwwwed and one or two guys yelled out something less than polite, but were quickly hushed by a nearby neighbor.
I could discern the heavy rise and fall of his chest, even from my position and the distance between us. His eyes were tangled with mine, beautiful thorny vines. I couldn’t read them, but I could see that he was as singularly focused on me as I was on him. The crowd, now silent, completely faded away. It was just him and me, Nico and Elizabeth, and I was cutting myself completely open.
I hoped it would be enough.
“But the thing is, Nico . . . I need you. I can’t do this unless I know it’s going to be forever. I’m not going to do this half-assed. I can’t try this out or try this on like it’s a pair of shoes I might want to buy. If we’re going to do this, you have to be all in, because I’m not willing to settle for anything less than all of you for as long as we can, for as long as we have. You, us, we’re worth the risk. . . I need you.”
I tried in vain to wipe the sweaty hand not holding the microphone on my bare thigh. “And, therefore and in summary,” I said, my voice shaking as I got down on one knee, thankful I’d chosen boyshorts as my underwear selection for the day. I was vaguely aware that people around me gasped. “Nico Mang-gan-aniello.” I winced a little as I butchered his last name. “Will you do me the honor of becoming my hus—”
“Yes!” He yelled his response before I could finish, and his microphone carried the answer like a gunshot. “Yes, Elizabeth Finney I will marry you.”
I exhaled and immediately closed my eyes, overwhelmed by relief, ready to collapse with it. A smile I was powerless against and tears of joy—the traitors!—brutally ransacked my face. My hands were shaking and so were my knees. At first I was only dimly aware of the deafening cheer that had erupted from the audience; but soon it crashed over me like a wave, engulfed me like an undertow.
I was lifted off my feet by hands, and my eyes opened to find that Nico had jumped off his stage, run through the seated audience, jumped the railing into the crowd then climbed onto my stage. He wrapped me in his arms and held me tight, so tight I thought I might break. But I didn’t care.
I didn’t care if I broke because I had a forever with Nico to mend, and forever started now.
Chapter 29
The first thing Nico did after our embrace was cover me with his suit shirt. The second thing he did was pick me up and carry me off the stage.
The crowd continued to applaud, hoot, and holler like moonshine drunk corn farmers. He ignored the thunder of their approval and, instead, kissed me as he carried me. I didn’t notice much; all I wanted to see was him. I was still crying a bit, but the tears were caused by laughter and relief, good tears.
Less than a minute later we were in his dressing room, and he kicked the door shut with his foot. He turned, set me down and pressed me against the door. His hands lifted to my face, and the pads of his thumbs wiped away the watery tracks.
“Where did you come from? How did you get up on the stage?”
I opened my mouth to respond; however, before I could, he kissed me. Nico pulled me against him, his large hands moved into the suit shirt and gripped my bare waist. Abruptly, he retreated, his eyes flashing like fireworks. “Why? Why did you do that?”
Then, once more leaving me no time to respond, he kissed me again. His tongue swept into my mouth, covetous and demanding. Nico greedily pressed his hard lines against my soft curves, pushed me against the door. His roughness was inexorably overpowering; my limbs and brain became useless against the ravenous assault.
Thankfully, he held me in place with his body, his knee between my legs; otherwise I might have dissolved into a puddle of wanton woman on the floor.
“Why didn’t you just . . .” kiss “. . . have them . . .” kiss “. . . tell me . . .” kiss “. . . that you were here?” kiss.
Interrogating me and kissing me in intervals, I had difficulty comprehending or following his questions. His hands were everywhere, as though checking to confirm I was real. My hands were also everywhere because, damnit, he felt good.
“The guy . . .” kiss “. . . with the headphones . . .” kiss “. . . said that he had no way . . .” kiss “. . . to let you know . . .” kiss “. . . that we were here.”
Nico lifted his head, his eyes hazy even as they searched mine. His hand was under the shirt, absentmindedly caressing me through the lace of my bra. I moaned.