Total pages in book: 97
Estimated words: 94687 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 473(@200wpm)___ 379(@250wpm)___ 316(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 94687 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 473(@200wpm)___ 379(@250wpm)___ 316(@300wpm)
“That’s how I felt too. I’d wanted you for a long time, but I’d told myself again and again to keep my hands off you. Then that night, I just lost my grip on control. And I’m not sorry it happened—I’m only sorry about the consequences. But if I could go back, I’d have called and made sure you were okay.” He reached over and took my hand. “I’m sorry I didn’t.”
We were quiet for a moment, studying our fingers laced together.
“Think of it this way,” I said quietly. “We made another family really, really happy.”
He nodded slowly. “Can I ask you something?”
“Of course.”
“Was it a boy or a girl?”
I swallowed, fighting the little lump that had jumped into my throat. “It was a boy. They named him Charles, after his father and grandfather.”
He exhaled. “I wasn’t sure I ever wanted to know.”
“Are you glad now that you do?”
“I’m not sure.”
I laughed gently. “I know all about mixed feelings on this topic, I promise.”
“Was it hard? To give him up?”
“The hardest thing I’ve ever done. But the parents who adopted him were wonderful, and they wanted him so badly. I knew right from the start they were his parents. That helped.”
“Good.”
For a moment, I considered telling him that I’d reached out to Charles’s parents about meeting him, but decided against it. It seemed like too much for one night. I felt like we’d crossed a hugely important bridge—individually and together—and I didn’t want anything to set us back. Besides, he was leaving in three days. It wouldn’t affect him at all, and I could always tell him in the future. Hopefully, we’d stay in touch when he left.
“You know what?” he said.
“What?”
“I decided. I’m glad I know. And I’m glad to hear that he was adopted by wonderful parents who really wanted him. That makes me feel good.”
“Me too.”
We sat in silence for another minute, but it wasn’t awkward. It was . . . nice. Familiar. Comfortable.
Tempting.
“Well, I should go in,” I said, reluctantly taking my hand from his. I loved that he’d reached for it. How long had it been since anyone had taken my hand? Kissed me in the dark? Held me close and whispered all the things he wanted to do to me? And why was I wishing Tyler would do all of those things? Was I that lonely? Or just insane?
“Can I still pick you up tomorrow and drive you to work?” he asked.
“You don’t have to. I could ask Chloe to get me on her way in.”
“I want to. I’ll pick you up about eight, if that works? That way I can still get an early run in.”
“That works. Thanks.” I put my hand on the door handle but didn’t pull it. “And thanks for talking about this with me. I know it’s not easy, but in all honesty, I needed this.”
“You’re welcome.” His eyes held mine. “Now get the fuck inside, April, before I forget I’m the good guy tonight.”
Smiling, I hopped out of the car and slammed the door behind me.
That smile lingered on my lips as I let myself into my condo. As I watched him drive away through my living room window. As I floated upstairs to my bedroom. As I undressed myself, got ready for bed, and slid between the sheets. As I recalled the moment at the restaurant when he’d held me close. As I remembered the way he’d taken my hand in the car. As I heard in my mind his deep, hushed voice asking whether I’d had a boy or a girl.
I was so glad he’d asked. I would have been fine if he hadn’t, but it had been such a relief to acknowledge out loud the piece of my past I constantly carried around with me but could never discuss. It felt like a huge weight had been lifted from my shoulders.
And speaking of shoulders . . . I closed my eyes and pictured Tyler’s body, imagining what it might look like naked. The broad chest. The sculpted arms. The solid abs. The night we’d been together, everything had been so fast and furtive and threaded with fear—Would we get caught? Would I bleed? Would he guess that I’d never done it before? Would he stop? Was this going to hurt? Was I supposed to make noise or be quiet?—that my memories had taken on a blurry, unreal quality. More like a movie than a life experience.
I only recalled two things with any clarity—the moment he reached over and touched my hair, and the way he said, “Come here.” A second later, his lips were on mine and I was in heaven.
God, I wished he’d kissed me goodnight.
Was I losing my mind?
I mean, what would be the point of messing around with him? Nothing could come of it. He was only in town for the wedding. He lived all the way across the country. He wasn’t interested in a relationship. And our history was all kinds of complicated.