Say You Still Love Me: Chapter 19

“It feels like forever since we last lunched. When was it, Mother’s Day?” My mom smooths her hand over her sleek blonde ponytail and then busies herself laying a cloth napkin over her lap to protect her cream-colored pants. She is the only woman I know who dares to wear cream-colored pants to an Italian restaurant.

“I’ve been busy. And you haven’t exactly been around, either.” We have a standing lunch date in our calendars the first Sunday of every month. We’ve taken turns canceling on each other the last two.

“I know, darling. I was hoping to have all the renovations finished by now, but this contractor does not seem to know what he’s doing. I won’t be recommending him.” She smiles. “But, I have to say, you are glowing. Is this about David?” She glances at my left hand, no doubt to check for the engagement ring.

“David and I are over. We will never get back together,” I say as slowly and firmly as I can, because neither of my parents seems to be able to let go of that dream.

“Well, who is it, then?”

“Who says it’s about a man?”

The waiter swings by to drop off a bottle of sauvignon blanc, saving me from having to discuss last night’s knee-buckling kiss from my first love. I tossed for hours in bed pondering it, my body a live wire, thoughts of Kyle churning in my mind, the wish to have him lying next to me overwhelming.

“So what are you doing in the city, anyway?” I rush to move the topic off me for the moment. “You said you were visiting someone?”

“Just a friend.” She brings her glass to her lips, letting it linger there a long moment, her eyes roaming the menu.

I make a point of holding my glass in the air. “Cheers, Mom.”

“Oh, right, of course.” She laughs, following suit to let our glasses clink. “I forgot.”

Cocktail etiquette is second nature to my mother. She never forgets. Which means she’s either lying or hiding something.

“A male friend?” I push.

She hesitates. “He is male, yes.” Another long moment passes and then finally she dares to meet my gaze, her rose-painted lips pursing with a small, knowing smile.

“Are you dating someone?” I whisper excitedly.

“I’m not exactly sure. We’re taking things slow.”

Lord knows it’s time. After her affair with the tennis player that summer I was at Wawa and the ensuing ugly divorce, there was a lengthy dating blackout period in Mom’s life, where she wouldn’t even broach the thought. There’ve been a few men since then—one who even managed to slip a ring on her finger for all of a week before she politely returned it.

It’s been at least two years since she last mentioned anything that sounds like a date, though I’m sure there’s been no shortage of suitors lurking.

“Who is he? What’s his name? What does he do?” I rifle off question after question.

She holds a perfect, manicured hand up in the air to quiet me. “It’s still in the early stages.”

“You have to tell me something!”

“Well. He’s . . . a man,” she begins.

I roll my eyes.

“He’s age-appropriate.”

“More than I can say for Dad, so thank you for that,” I mutter through a sip. While my mother could easily pass for a decade younger than her fifty-seven years, I’ve had enough of my parents dating people closer to my age than their own.

She smirks. “He’s unexpected. And surprising.” Her blue eyes twinkle. “And that’s all I’m comfortable with saying at this point, so please don’t push. I don’t want to jinx it.”

“Wow. It sounds like you really like this guy.”

“Honestly?” She lets out a shaky sigh. “I haven’t felt like this in forever, Piper. He brings out something in me that I thought I’d lost. Well, anyway, I’m really hoping this works out, yes.” She laughs. “Listen to me. I sound like a giggling, foolish teenager! Never thought I’d be revisiting those years.”

I snort, and nearly choke on my wine. You and me both.

“So? What’s new with you? You mentioned in your message that you wanted to talk about something.”

“Yeah.” I groan. “Dad.”

She holds a smile, but it turns tight. Forced. “What did he do now?”

“Not now, but I think he did something really shitty thirteen years ago.”

Leaning back in her chair, drink in hand as if arming herself, she mutters, “Go on.”

“Do you remember that guy from camp? Kyle?”

“Oh. Yes.” Her eyes widen knowingly. “You were a mess over that boy for your entire junior year, if I recall. Wallowing in your room for hours on end. You lost ten pounds that you didn’t have to lose, not eating. As if I’d ever forget about him.”

“I was in love with him, Mom. And only sixteen,” I remind her, my cheeks flushing with embarrassment. “And there was a lot going on back then, if you will recall. Marital affairs, a divorce—”

“Yes, I suppose,” she cuts me off, intently focused on her bracelet’s clasp for a moment. It took her a year to admit her indiscretions to me, long after the illicit high had faded and the lifelong regret had set in.

“Well, I found out that Dad paid Kyle to go away.”

The flash of recognition in her eyes answers me right away.

My jaw drops. “Are you kidding me? You knew!”

Her gaze flitters around us to make sure no one heard my outburst. “I didn’t know about it at the time. He didn’t tell me until months later. I swear, Piper. The tears, the moping, the not eating . . . it had been going on for so long that I finally mentioned maybe hiring one of your father’s people to track this boy down and get you some closure. That’s when your father told me the truth.”

“And you didn’t think to tell me then?”

“Why would I? Honey, he took the money! He chose money over you. Why would I want a boy like that in your life? No, I was furious with your father, but I didn’t disagree that this boy didn’t belong with our daughter. And don’t shake your head at me like that; you’ll understand one day,” she mutters through a sip of her wine, the glass already half-finished.

“Of course he took the money! You knew what kind of life Kyle came from. What that money could do for him and his family.”

“Yes, but—”

“And you also know Dad better than anyone else. He threatened Kyle, Mom. Can you imagine what it would have been like for seventeen-year-old Kyle to face that?” Just thinking about it now incites a deep burn of fury inside me.

She sighs with resignation. “Why are we even talking about this?”

“Because I ran into Kyle recently and he told me.”

“Really . . . Here, in Lennox?” She keeps her expression smooth, but I hear the wariness in her voice.

“Yes.”

“How’s he doing?” She watches me through shrewd eyes.

“He’s doing well. He was in San Diego, but he moved here recently. He’s working full-time. Security.” I intentionally leave out the part about where he’s working security, until I can figure out where my mother’s head is at with this. “He’s basically cut off all ties with his family, except for his younger brother, who has made something of himself.”

“That’s . . . good.” She pauses and then feigns casualness to ask, “So, is he dating? Or married?”

“No, Mom. He’s single.” I meet her steady gaze with my own.

“I see,” she murmurs quietly. “I guess that explains this effervescent glow.” The waiter passes by to take our orders and collect our menus, stalling the conversation. “Does your father know about you two . . . reconnecting?” she asks when we’re alone again.

“We haven’t yet. Not exactly.” Our mouths have reconnected and it was euphoric. “And, no, after what Dad did, I don’t plan on telling him anytime soon. I want to see if Kyle and I can salvage what we had before I have to deal with that problem.”

“I don’t know if there will be any dealing with your father about this.” She lets out a derisive chuckle. “He’s still holding out hope that you’ll come to your senses over David. At least I assume so, if I know your father at all.”

“Oh, no, he has now moved on to ambushing high-rolling lawyers at galas.” I tell her about last night’s guerrilla-style Sternum introduction.

She groans. “I swear, that man . . .” She traces the rim of her wineglass with her fingertip as she considers me. “Do you still care about Kyle?”

“I haven’t been able to stop thinking about him,” I admit.

“And are those feelings mutual?”

I smile, thinking about the feel of his body pressed against mine last night. “Yes. But he’s convinced we can’t work, and he’s not willing to try. He says he can’t handle losing me again.” Which only makes my heart ache for him more.

Her blue eyes drift out the window, past the sun-soaked boardwalk and milling pedestrians to the river, as if searching for an answer out among the sailboats floating in the distance. “Piper, you know that I understand, better than anyone, that a bank account shouldn’t determine who you fall in love with,” she says carefully, a worried look on her face. “But you are going to be running Calloway Group one day.”

I roll my eyes. “I’ve already heard this from Dad.”

“And now you can hear it from me. You’re going to be running Calloway Group and you’re a woman. Right or wrong, you will always be dealing with men who think you are lesser, simply because you are a woman.”

“I’m fully aware of all that, Mom.”

“I know you are. Just . . . keep it in mind when you choose who you have standing beside you in life, because as hard as it may seem now, the weight on your shoulders when your father is no longer in the picture is going to be tremendous. You’ll need someone who can hold you up when that weight gets to be too much. Someone who’s there to catch you when you fall, and help you get back up.” She reaches out to pat my hand affectionately. “Maybe Kyle is it. Though it sounds like he already has low expectations for you two lasting, and I’m not sure that’s the right foot to be starting off any relationship on, forget one with you.”

“He’s scared.”

She purses her lips. “Then be sure that what you’re feeling is real. I wouldn’t want you getting hurt a second time by him. ”

“Kyle didn’t hurt me the first time. Dad did.”

“Fair enough. Still . . .”

“Dad’s making me so angry lately.” I break off a piece of flatbread and nibble on it, savoring the potent rosemary and oil drizzle. “Though he surprised me last night, by admitting to being wrong about the way he’s handling Tripp.”

“Yes, I’ve heard you’re having problems. I talked to Rhett,” she adds when I give her a questioning look.

I should have known. At least the little gossip kept his mouth shut about Kyle.

Mom smiles softly. “You know, you’re more like your father than you’d like to admit. You’re both hardworking and tenacious. And sometimes you get so wrapped up in your big, lofty plans that you lose sight of the little things that are just as important to you. Take some time to remind your father of that. He’ll come around, eventually. Oh!” she manages through a sip, her brows curving ever so slightly—either from recent Botox injections or her own natural impulse to keep facial expressions to a minimum, to avoid needing further Botox treatments—“speaking of Wawa, since you brought it up . . . Jackie told me they shut it down.”

“Seriously?”

“I know!” Her voice is full of dismay. “Ruth was going to send Robert this summer but when she went to register, they said it was closed.”

“They must be so upset.” My mom’s older sister, Jackie, and my cousin, Ruth—eight years older than me—all attended Wawa in their youth. Robert would have been the third generation of my mother’s family to attend. “Do you know why?”

Mom shrugs. “Time to move on, maybe? I’ve asked my agent to keep an eye on the property, in case they put it up for sale.” She smiles secretively behind a sip of her wine. “Wouldn’t that be something? I could buy it just to spite your father.”

“Not a bad idea.” I clink my glass with hers. “Maybe we can go in on it together, so if I end up back with Kyle and I’m forced to leave Calloway Group, we can run the camp.” Dating a starving writer was one thing; Dad would never be able to stomach his daughter settling down with our building’s security guard, let alone one with the Miller gene pool’s rap sheet lingering in the shadows.

“I really hope it doesn’t come to that.” Her lips purse in thought. “I know it sounds harsh, but I think you need to consider the positives about what your father did. You were only sixteen and you still had a lot of growing up to do. Think about it . . . Brown, then Wharton, and the internships to get you where you are now. How would you have managed keeping your priorities straight while carrying on with a boy like this Kyle? I mean, you were fired from your summer job because of him, Piper.”

“Don’t blame Kyle. That was as much my fault as it was his. And what’s going on with you? It sounds like you’re making excuses for Dad’s shady behavior.”

“No.” She holds her manicured hand in the air. “I most certainly am not excusing your father’s behavior. I’m just trying to help you see past your anger and think about this logically.” She offers me a sympathetic smile. “We’re your parents. We only ever want you to be happy. But we’re also human and have our own set of experiences that have shaped how we see life. Our own pitfalls that we’ve tumbled into. Sometimes it’s hard to stand by and let your children learn the hard way. And sometimes we screw up. But I promise you, whatever your father did, it wasn’t through selfish or malicious intent. He has always had your best interests in mind.” She shrugs. “And it sounds like his methods, however twisted they may have been, helped this boy in the long run, too.”

“Yeah, they did,” I admit reluctantly. Kyle did say that he doesn’t hold a grudge against my father, that the money changed his life for the better. Knowing that does temper my anger a touch. Just a touch, because there would have been better ways to help a boy in need than to threaten him.

I sigh. “I can’t just move on. Not without knowing whether we could work.”

Mom seems to mull that over. “You two weren’t ready for the kind of feelings you’d fallen into back then, but maybe you are now.”

I frown. “You’re confusing me. Are you suggesting that Kyle and I should be together?” Because everything she’s said up until now has sounded like the exact opposite.

“It is confusing, isn’t it? Life? To be so sure of something in your head but unable to ignore what’s in your heart.” Her eyes narrow on her fork tines in thought. “I think that if you and this boy . . . this man, now . . . really want this to work despite the challenges, then you’ll find a way.” She offers my hand a reassuring pat. “You are your father’s daughter, after all. And when he married me, I didn’t have two pennies to rub together.”

“But your looks and your charm were priceless.”

Her soft, musical laughter soothes me. “If I remember correctly, this boy was rather cute, despite the funny hair. How did he turn out?”

“He turned out just fine.” I give her a knowing look.

“A security guard, you said?” She smiles secretively through a sip of wine. “Do they use handcuffs?”

I cringe. “Mom!”

“Seventeen Cherry Lane. This is it.” The cab driver squints as he peers over his steering wheel to take in the condominium, the six o’clock evening sun bouncing off the windows. It isn’t one of the buildings we developed, but it’s nice, all the same.

Seventeen cherries.

I hand the driver a wad of cash for the fare plus a healthy tip for putting up with the stops we made on the way here. “Just wait here a minute, in case they’re not home, okay?”

“You got it.”

I slide out of the backseat of the taxi and make my way through the glass doors. The intercom is to the left. I promptly punch in 717.

And wait.

Disappointment begins to swell as it rings three . . . four . . . five times, until a male voice answers on the sixth ring. “Yeah?”

I can’t tell if it’s Kyle or Jeremy. “Hey . . . It’s Piper.”

There’s a long stretch of silence.

And then a buzz and a click sound, as the interior door unlocks.

I give the taxi the thumbs-up and then head in.

The interior is attractive—trendier than some of the family-friendly ones in the area. There is a small cubby to my right where a security guard would sit, but it’s empty. I’m not surprised. We’re in the suburbs, a generally safe and quiet area. Most condo boards have opted for security camera systems and part-time staff to save on budget.

I clutch my purse to my side as I ride the elevator up to the seventh floor, my stomach a fluttering mess of nerves. I’m more nervous for this than I have been for any board meeting or investor presentation I’ve lived through. Maybe it’s because this is personal; the end result means everything to me.

When I round the bend in the hall, Kyle is waiting for me, leaning against the door frame, barefoot and wearing track pants and a plain white T-shirt that clings to his torso without being too tight. His hair is damp and pushed back, reminding me of afternoons in the lake, when he’d slide a hand through it to keep it from falling onto his forehead.

He watches me approach, his eyes drifting over my outfit—a casual navy-blue-and-white striped cotton jersey dress that hugs my curves and makes me think of warm summer days at Martha’s Vineyard.

“You found me,” he murmurs with a crooked smile.

“Jeremy was right. It’s easy to remember.” I stop just in front of him and inhale the scent of soap and cologne that wafts around him. “You smell good.”

“I was just getting out of the shower when you buzzed.”

Thoughts of Kyle answering my call in nothing but a towel hit me, and heat begins crawling along my skin. “It’s okay that I’ve surprised you like this?”

“Yes.” Not a hint of a waver in his voice.

An electric charge is building between us. His deep inhale tells me he feels it, too.

“Come in,” he murmurs, gesturing with an inviting hand. He closes the door softly behind us.

It’s a modestly sized but nice place—with an all-white galley kitchen and floor-to-ceiling windows off the living room, letting in plenty of light. Sliding frosted glass doors on either side lead to two bedrooms, where neither bed is made.

“Where’s your brother?”

“Out with some new friends.”

“Sounds like he’s settling in well.”

“He does well anywhere. He’s a social guy.”

“You were a social guy.”

“Why are you here, Piper?” Kyle’s gaze drifts to my mouth.

He knows exactly why I’m here.

Swallowing my anticipation, I reach into my purse. “I just happened to be out shopping earlier and look what I found.” I hold up a fistful of cherry and razz apple flavored Fun Dips—ten packs in total, which took visits to five different convenience stores before I found them.

Kyle grins. “I haven’t had one of those since Wawa.”

“Me neither. So I was thinking it was time for a little game of two truths and a lie.”

“Fine.” His eyes settle on mine, suddenly serious. “You go first.”

Okay. I take a deep breath. “I didn’t really need a gel pen on Saturday night.”

He chuckles and I feel the sound deep in my chest.

“I haven’t stopped thinking about you since you came to Lennox.” I hazard a reach up, to skate my fingers over his cheek. “And I will jump off any cliff you ask me to, no matter how frightened I am, as long as it means you’re waiting for me at the bottom.” I let my hand fall to his shoulder and my thumb drag along his bare collarbone, reveling in the heat of his skin. “What’s my lie, Kyle?”

He swallows hard. “That’s a trick question.”

Because they’re all truths.

“You always were too good for this game.”

“My turn.” He steps forward, guiding me backward until my back hits the door. “I knew you didn’t really come back for a pen.” His hands find my hips. “I’ve measured every girl I’ve dated since Wawa against you and they’ve all failed miserably.” His golden eyes lock on my mouth. “And I’m an idiot for being too scared to do this.” My head hits the door as his lips crash into mine, but I don’t feel the throb, meeting his mouth with my own fervor, as thirteen years of pent-up pain, love, and lust releases between us. Our hands roam urgently—tugging at clothing, learning new curves, reveling in each other’s familiar heat—as if we have only minutes to accomplish all that we want to do.

He breaks free long enough to reach back and yank his T-shirt over his head, tossing it to the hardwood floor, and then his lips are on me again—on my mouth, my throat, my collarbone, his warm breath trailing along my skin.

My fingernails drag over his shoulders and my eyes shut, as I revel in the feel of both new and old.

I barely notice Kyle pushing the straps of my dress off my shoulders, and then the material is pooling at my ankles and I’m stepping out of it. He wastes no time peeling off the rest and, within minutes of stepping into this condo, I’m still at the front door but I’m naked. His skin is hot against mine as he pulls me into his arms, our bodies smashed together.

I don’t hesitate, sliding my fingers beneath the elastic band of his track pants and easing them down over his hips, momentarily surprised by the lack of boxers beneath, but quickly distracted when his pants hit the floor.

“I never thought we’d be doing this again.” He grabs the back of my thighs and hoists me up into his arms, guiding my legs around his hips. The door is cool against my bare back as he presses me into it once again, his mouth dipping down to wrap around a pebbled nipple this time, sending shivers skittering to my core.

“I don’t think we ever did this,” I manage to get out around a soft moan, his hard length pressing against me, my body aching to feel all of it. Everything back then seemed so new and tentative. I remember a lot of fumbling, a lot of nervousness; a lot of Kyle hesitating, not wanting to pressure or rush me.

While this moment with Kyle is also uncharted territory, there’s nothing tentative about him letting me know what he wants.

And I’m perfectly fine with giving it to him, except for the fact that he has a brother who may come home at any minute.

“Your bedroom. Now,” I demand, my arms linked around his neck, my lips against his ear.

His mouth is still on me as he carries me to the room on the right, groping blindly for the door handle to slide the door shut before falling into bed on top of me. “I’ve thought about doing this every morning you walked in through the front doors.”

“Even while you were ignoring me?” I tease, my fingers curling through his damp hair, sending it into disarray as he grinds his hips against mine.

“Especially then.” His teeth skate across my neck as his mouth edges downward, his arms braced on either side of me, the muscles in his broad shoulders straining beautifully as he lifts and holds himself over me, his eyes taking a long, leisurely look downward, over my naked body beneath him.

I follow suit, reaching down to grip him, parting my legs in an inviting way.

He inhales sharply. “If I wait any longer, I’m going to explode,” he whispers.

“Don’t, then.”

I marvel at this new body before me as he rushes to fish a condom from an unopened box in his nightstand, as he tears the packaging and rolls it on.

And then he’s curling his fingers within mine and pressing my hands above my head to pin me down.

I happily give up control, allowing him to fit himself between my thighs and push into me without hesitation.

Exhilaration and an unexpected sense of peace surges through me.

The front door creaks open around eight P.M.

“We left our clothes out there,” I whisper into Kyle’s bare, sculpted chest, my body warm and relaxed and splayed on top of him. I could stay like this all night.

“It’s fine.”

“Your brother is looking at my underwear right now.”

“Hope they’re clean.”

“Shut up!” I smack his abdomen playfully and his muscles flex with his laugh. “Of course they are. I changed them before I came here.”

“Someone sure had high hopes,” he murmurs.

“Keep it up and you’ll be doing nothing but hoping for a long time,” I throw back, dragging a fingernail around his nipple and down, over the thin trail of hair past his belly button.

He sucks in a breath as my hand grazes his sensitive flesh. “I might need a few days to recuperate as it is.”

“You were a little bit eager the first time.”

“And the second time.”

“And the third.”

He shifts our bodies, allowing him to roll onto his side to face me. He runs a fingertip along my jawline. “This is crazy, isn’t it? Us, like this, again?”

I lean in to touch his nose with mine. “Crazy, but in the best way,” I whisper, my lips grazing his. “Are we going to do this?”

His lip curls with a sexy smirk. “I think we just did this.”

“That’s not what I mean.”

Kyle’s throat bobs with his swallow. “Aren’t you worried about how it looks at work?”

“Why? Are you embarrassed of being seen with me?”

He chuckles, but when he pulls back to look into my eyes, his are filled with earnestness. “There’s a lot of outside factors that could make things difficult. We need a game plan.”

Really there’s only one outside factor—a sixty-seven-year-old man in a three-piece suit.

I hadn’t planned anything beyond showing up on Kyle’s doorstep to tell him how I feel and seeing what might come of it. But he’s right; we do need a game plan. One that keeps the workplace gossip mill at bay and my father blissfully unaware for as long as possible. “We should keep things quiet for now. Because if people find out, then my father finds out. And, I swear, Kyle, his opinion of you doesn’t matter to me—”

“You’re right, we don’t want him knowing just yet,” Kyle agrees.

I smooth a hand over his jaw, coated with dark stubble. “I hate it, but I think that’s smart. For now.”

“Are you sure you’re going to be okay with people knowing that the future CEO of Calloway Group is dating the building’s security guard?” His voice drips with doubt.

I press my lips against his in a slow, tantalizing kiss. “I’m okay with people knowing that Piper Calloway is . . .” My voice trails. Could I still be in love with Kyle? I never truly fell out of love with him. “. . . dating Kyle Miller.”

“Kyle Stewart.”

My face pinches. “I can’t call you Kyle Stewart. You’ll always be Miller to me.”

His hand slides over my shoulder and down my arm, dragging the sheet off my body. “Call me whatever the hell you want to,” he murmurs, guiding me onto my back, his gaze taking in my naked body as he settles himself in between my thighs, his mouth leaving a trail of moisture as he begins shifting downward along my stomach.

“I’m ordering pizza!” Jeremy calls out from the main room. “Do you and Piper want in?”

“You hungry?” Kyle’s tongue teases my belly button.

“Kind of,” I admit. The salad at lunch didn’t fill me up.

“The usual?”

I frown curiously. “What’s my usual?”

“Hawaiian. That’s what you’d always go for at Wawa.”

“You remember that?”

He rests his chin on my pelvis and looks up at me. “I told you, I remember everything about you.”

I smooth a hand over his hair, now dry and wild, while emotion rises in my chest. “How does Jeremy know it’s me, anyway? I could have been anyone,” I murmur. “That would have been awkward.”

“ ’Cause Kyle hasn’t so much as blinked at another woman since we moved to Lennox!” Jeremy hollers.

Kyle rolls his eyes.

“Do you know he called me Sarah when he first saw me?” I call out.

“My brother’s an idiot, in case you haven’t noticed.”

“Order us a Hawaiian and get the fuck away from my bedroom door, you perv!” Kyle hollers back, glancing over as the shadowy figure strolls past the frosted glass, chuckling.

“You’ve got twenty minutes. I’ll be on the balcony.” A moment later, I hear the door slide open and shut.

Kyle groans and rests his head on my abdomen. “This place is too small.”

I stroke his hair. “We can stay at my place. My bedroom is down a hall, away from the others.” In truth, I have my own wing that might be the size of this entire condo.

“But then I’d have to deal with Christa.”

“And her psycho cross-eyed cat.”

“Why am I not surprised.”

“But on the flipside, it’s only a fifteen-minute walk to work.”

“Hmm . . . that’s tempting, seeing as I have to catch the bus at five from here.”

“Eww.”

“Right? So, you know you’re welcome to stay here tonight, but I’ll be gone early in the morning.”

“It’s okay. I have to get home soon, anyway. I have this construction proposal to go through before tomorrow.” I should have been combing through it all afternoon, looking for issues to arm myself with in my power struggle against Tripp, not searching half of Lennox for Fun Dip powder packs and tangling in Kyle’s sheets.

Kyle lifts his head to regard me for a long moment, a curious look in his eyes.

“What?”

“Nothing. I’m still in shock that you’re here, with me.”

“I know. Me, too.” And it still somehow feels like Kyle and me. We’ve changed, of course—the man looking up at me now is all muscle and strength, with the finest of fine lines touching his forehead and an entire arm and shoulder decorated in art—and yet there is still something so familiar and boyish about him.

Something that feels so right about us.

He bites his bottom lip, his gaze drifting over my breasts. “So I guess I only have twenty minutes, then.”

“For what?” I smile coyly.

I get a knowing smirk in return, and then his sinewy arms are tensing as he climbs up onto me.