Chapter 9
Two days later, Dane is leaving. But he’s coming back, and I believe him.
Leo had a meeting to go to that he couldn’t reschedule, and when I come downstairs, Dane’s suitcase is sitting by the door.
My chest squeezes, and I have to remind myself he’s just going to his home base to settle some things before returning.
I find him at the island, slicing a mango. His hair is damp from a shower, and he’s wearing comfortable jeans and a shirt. I admire his broad shoulders for a moment and then almost giggle at myself.
He’s leaving, and I’m standing here memorizing his shoulders like a lovesick idiot.
“You’re staring,” he says, without looking up.
“You’re worth staring at.” I slide onto the stool across from him and steal a piece of mango. “Is this your version of a goodbye breakfast?”
“It’s breakfast.” He sets a bowl of oatmeal in front of me and adds mango slices. “Eat.”
Even on his way out the door, this man can’t stop feeding me. I pick up the spoon before I do something stupid like cry over oatmeal.
Because here’s the thing. This is a man who told me he loved me on New Year’s Eve. Who filled me with his cum and promised to breed me. He isn’t leaving for good. He’s going back to pack up a life he doesn’t want anymore so he can start a new one with us.
We eat quietly, and when he finishes, he studies me until I look up and blush.
“What?” I ask with my spoon halfway to my mouth.
“I need to tell you something before I go.”
My pulse kicks. “Okay.”
“I told you about Claire.”
“Yeah.” They wanted something they couldn’t give each other.
“I need you to understand something.”
Oooh, okay, this is serious.
He continues. “She wanted kids. A family. The whole picture. And I told her I wasn’t sure I wanted that.”
My breath catches. Um, he’s not about to say the same thing to me, is he? Two nights ago, on the couch, when I said I wanted the possibility of a baby, Dane said yes without hesitation.
“I wasn’t lying to her,” he says quietly. “I didn’t want it. Not with her. Not then. And for a long time after the divorce, I thought that meant I didn’t want it at all.”
His eyes hold mine. “Then you asked me on New Year’s Eve, and the word came out before I could think.” His jaw tightens. “Because I realized it was never about not wanting a family. It was about not wanting one with the wrong person.”
Holy shit.
My eyes are burning.
“You’re the right person, Alice,” he says simply. “I didn’t know I was waiting for you, but I was.”
I’m out of my chair in a flash and pressing my face into his chest. His arms come around me, one hand on the back of my head. His heart hammers beneath my cheek.
“Dane.” My voice is muffled against his shirt. “If you make me cry, I’m never forgiving you.”
“You’re already crying.”
“Shut up.”
He laughs, and it rumbles through his chest and into me. It’s the best sound I’ve ever heard from this man. I clutch the front of his shirt and cry into it and laugh at the same time as he holds me with his chin resting on top of my head.
We stand there in Leo’s kitchen—our kitchen—and I let this sink in.
This man, who couldn’t make it work before, wants to make it work with me.
“Two weeks,” he says against my hair. “Maybe three. I need to deal with the lease. Renegotiate my contracts. The consulting work is location-independent, but there are logistics.”
“I know.”
“And then I’m coming back to you and Leo.”
“I know that too.”
“And I’m taking the office across from your studio. Leo already offered.”
I pull back. “You two planned this without me?”
“We discussed logistics.” His mouth twitches. “You were asleep. We didn’t want to wake you.”
“Because you’d exhausted me into a coma.”
“Accurate.” There’s no apology in his tone.
I rise on my toes and kiss him, slow and deep. His hand cups the back of my neck, and he kisses me back with all the love he feels for me spilling out.
When we pull apart, his forehead rests against mine. “I’ll be back as quickly as I can.”
“You better.”
He’s smiling when he lets me go to get ready to leave. Everything is going to work out. I can feel it.
After he’s gone, I wander into my studio, feeling a little lost. The poetry book Dane gave me is on the table by the window, and my heart warms. He’ll be back.
I pick out a brush and paint. I don’t know what I’m making. Blue first. Sweeping it across the canvas. Then gold bleeding into the edges. Then warm strokes that remind me of skin and sunlight and desire. It’s messy and wild and the proportions are all wrong.
I don’t care, because I’m finally painting in a house that belongs to one of the men I love. There’s a poetry book on the table left by another man who loves me.
I’m so absorbed I don’t hear Leo come in. “Lass.”
I turn with the brush still in my hand. I’m already a mess, with paint all over my fingers.
He’s leaning against the doorframe in his meeting clothes, but he’s undone the top button and rolled the sleeves to his forearms. The afternoon light catches the silver at his temples.
“You’re painting,” he says, warmly.
“I’m making a terrible mess.”
“Good.” He crosses the room and stops behind me. He looks at the canvas over my shoulder. “It’s a start,” he says.
“It’s awful.”
“It’s yours. That’s what matters.”
He wraps his arms around me from behind, and I lean into him. His heartbeat is steady against my shoulder blade, and I’m struck by how right this feels.
“Dane left,” I say.
“I know.” Leo presses a kiss to my hair. “He asked me to make sure you ate lunch. He’s already managing the household, and he hasn’t even moved in yet.”
I smile. “He talked to me about Claire and how he didn’t want kids with her, but he does with me.”
“Aye?”
“And you?” I ask. “Are you really okay with all of this? Sharing your house, your life, everything?”
“Alice.” He turns me around in his arms, and his voice is rougher than usual.
“I spent years building a life that looked impressive and was empty. Big house. Nice cars. Money to burn. Then a lass in a Queen of Hearts costume stumbled into my world at a Halloween party and wrecked every plan I ever had.” He tucks a strand of hair behind my ear.
“This house hasn’t been a home since I bought it.
But it is now since you moved in. Do you understand the difference? ”
I press my forehead against his collarbone and breathe him in. Oranges and warmth and safety and mine.
“I love you,” I say against his chest.
“I love you, lass.” His thumb brushes the knot at the top of my spine. “Now. What do you want for lunch?”
I laugh. “You’re as bad as Dane.”
“Where do you think he learned it?”
A jolt of happiness makes me smile. I lift my head and glance over my shoulder at the canvas, with its wild, messy colors.
This is my life now. Chaotic and mine. Two men who love me.