“I know what it means,” he whispers, brushing his lips along mine. He lowers his voice. “Do you want to know something, Hazel? I’ve been thinking about you all damn day. I can’t stop thinking about you. I think it’s time I just told you. I care about you. I care about you more than I understand.”
Then I smell something else: whiskey.
“You’ve been drinking,” I sigh.
He rolls his eyes, a cheeky smile playing at his lips. “Maybe a little.”
I place my hand on his chest. “What you just said, Carlo, it means a lot to me. But it will mean even more sober.”
He shrugs, placing a kiss on my forehead. I savor the feel of it, the warmth. Then he lets me go and drops down in the grass.
“What are you doing?” I laugh.
“What does it look like?” he says, pulling a weed. “Making myself useful. Come o
