24. Amanda
Amanda
I'm happy.
Which should be a simple thing to admit.
But somehow, for me, it isn't.
Maybe because happiness has always felt temporary.
Fragile.
Like something beautiful that can disappear the second you relax and enjoy it.
Still…
For the last few days, I've been wrapped up in this beautiful little bubble with Less.
And despite my momentary panic when he'd started talking forever and promises and marriage and the rest of it, he'd backed off.
Not emotionally.
Never emotionally.
If anything, Alessio seems more determined than ever.
He's just patient now.
Understanding.
Giving me room to breathe.
Sort of.
Because he's still sleeping over every night.
Still calling me Rusty or Sweetheart in that sexy, rough voice of his.
Still bringing me coffee in bed.
Still touching me every chance he gets.
Still looking at me like maybe he’s crazy in love like never before.
The intensity hasn't changed.
Not one bit.
And honestly?
That scares me a little.
Not because of him.
Because of me.
Because what if this is all in my head?
What if he's caught up in the excitement of finding each other again?
What if eventually—no.
Stop.
I force those thoughts back before Negative Nancy can strike again.
I groan and toss my script onto the coffee table.
Less is at work.
The condo is strangely quiet without him.
Too quiet.
I miss him.
Which is ridiculous.
The man left for work four hours ago.
Four.
Hours.
I’m so pathetic.
My phone chimes.
Incoming Video Call
Leandra Madoc
I blink in surprise.
Then, I answer it immediately.
“Leandra?”
Her beautiful face fills the screen.
Blonde hair piled on top of her head.
No makeup.
Huge mug in her hands.
Honestly, she looks more like somebody's favorite hip aunt than one of Broadway's biggest stars.
“Hello, darling.”
I smile immediately.
“Hi.”
“How are you feeling?”
“Good.”
“How are you really feeling?”
I laugh.
“Busted?”
“Sweetheart, I have daughters. I'm professionally trained to detect nonsense.”
That makes me laugh harder.
“Okay, maybe I'm confused.”
“A man problem?”
“A Less problem.”
“Ah.”
She settles deeper into her chair.
“Is the handsome bodyguard getting serious?”
“Um, yes, fortunately or unfortunately, depending on my mood.”
Leandra gasps dramatically.
“Ah, well, how tragic for you.”
I snort.
“Oh my God, I sound silly. But he's ridiculous!”
“Mm-hmm. Do tell.”
“He growls at people.”
“Mm-hmm.”
“He acts possessive.”
“Mm-hmm.”
“He practically moved into my condo without asking.”
“Mm-hmm. Sounds good so far, what’s the problem?”
I narrow my eyes.
“Whose side are you on?”
She grins.
“I am on the side of romance and true love, of course.”
I groan.
“Traitor.”
“Sweetheart, I've been married for ten years. Trust me, possessive men aren't the problem.”
I blink.
“They aren't?”
“No.”
She points at the camera.
“Disrespectful men are a problem.”
Then she starts pointing to her fingers—like she’s making a list.
“Cruel men are a problem. Men who don't listen are a problem. Men who make you feel small are a problem.”
I swallow.
Because Less does none of those things.
“Yeah, but—”
“Hot bodyguards who want to protect you? Not a problem. And really? That man worships the ground you walk on, Amanda.”
My cheeks turn pink.
“He really doesn't.”
She laughs.
“Oh honey. He paid for a brand-new security system for the theater.”
I blink.
“What?”
“He argued with Chance about it and wouldn’t take no for an answer.”
My mouth falls open.
“He what?”
“Apparently your bodyguard boyfriend was dissatisfied with our existing setup. Even when Chance agreed to an upgrade, Less said it wasn’t good enough and footed the bill for the very best.”
“Are you serious?” I ask, then I start laughing—hysterically.
“Oh, it gets better.”
She sips her coffee.
“He personally interviewed the owner of the security company and their tech guy.”
“No!”
“Yes.”
“He installed most of it himself.”
“No!”
“Yes.”
“He terrified two electricians.”
I bury my face in my hands.
“Oh my God.”
“The theater has been completely repaired and checked. Every light fixture. Every catwalk. Every access door.”
She smiles warmly.
“And there's a new security system installed throughout the building.”
“And Less paid for that?”
“With considerable enthusiasm.”
I stare.
“But he never said anything.”
“Which is exactly how I know he is completely wild about you.”
She smiles knowingly.
“What?”
“Because, Amanda, he wasn't doing it for praise.”
My throat tightens.
No. He wasn't.
That's just who he is.
Protective.
Steady.
Loving.
Terrifyingly devoted.
“Leandra, I just don’t know.”
She softens immediately.
“What scares you, Sweetheart?”
The tears come out of nowhere.
“We were together once, and he just—he just left.”
Her expression gentles.
“Ah.”
“But he says he won't again.”
“And do you believe him?”
“I want to.”
And I realize for the first time that I really do want to.
“Then what's stopping you?”
I laugh shakily.
“Self-preservation?”
She smiles sadly.
“Understandable.”
“Three years is a long time.”
“Yes.”
“And he broke my heart.”
“Yes.”
“But he also came back, and he told me why he left,” I whisper.
I blink.
“He told you the truth?” Leandra asks.
“Yes.”
“He got help?”
“Yes.”
“He apologized?”
“Yes.”
“He loves you?”
I smile despite myself.
“Very much.”
“And do you love him?”
My smile grows.
“With all my heart.”
Leandra laughs.
“Oh, you're in so much trouble.”
“I know.”
She points her mug at me.
“Listen carefully, Amanda.”
I straighten automatically.
“Forgiveness isn't forgetting.”
I nod.
“It isn't pretending someone didn't hurt you.”
Another nod.
“Forgiveness is choosing whether somebody deserves a second chance.”
My eyes fill again.
“And only you can decide that.”
“I'm scared.”
“Of course you are—you’re not stupid. But sometimes you have to take a chance.”
Then—she winks.
Actually winks.
“And besides, those overprotective men are relentless. Saying no forever would be too exhausting.”
I laugh through my tears.
“So Chance was the same?”
“Chance was the same.”
“And you think Less is sincere?”
“I think Less is sincere.”
“You know, I think your husband and my boyfriend should probably never hang out.”
Leandra snorts.
“Too late.”
“What?”
“Chance already likes him.”
“Oh, no.”
“Oh, yes.”
She grins wickedly.
“Apparently they spent twenty minutes discussing tactical flashlights.”
I laugh so hard I nearly spill my tea.
And somehow talking to her helps.
Because she's right.
Less hurt me.
But he came back.
He fought for us.
He's trying.
And maybe—maybe that's worth taking a chance on.
Just as we end the call, I hear the lock turn.
My heart lifts instantly.
Less.
Funny how that works now.
The sound of his key in the door.
His heavy footsteps.
Even the faint jingle of his keys.
All of it immediately makes me feel calmer.
Safer.
Happier.
I don't even think about it anymore.
I just smile.
Because somehow—without me even realizing when it happened—he's become my favorite part of every day.
“Hey,” he calls out.
I hear the smile in his voice before I see him.
A second later, he appears around the corner.
Dark suit jacket slung over one shoulder.
Tie loosened.
Those broad shoulders filling the doorway.
And the second his eyes land on me, something soft settles over his face.
Like no matter how rough his day has been, seeing me makes it better.
“Hey yourself,” I reply.
I'm grinning before I can stop myself.
He drops everything.
Literally.
His keys hit the counter.
His jacket lands on a chair.
And then he's crossing the room with that singular focus he always has where I'm concerned.
I barely have time to inhale before his big hands are cupping my cheeks.
Tenderly.
Reverently.
His thumbs brush beneath my eyes as if he can't quite believe I'm here.
Then he bends down and kisses me.
Not rushed.
Not demanding.
Just him.
Just my Less.
Warm and familiar and impossibly sweet.
His mouth moves softly over mine, and I melt immediately, smiling against his lips as he deepens the kiss just enough to make my toes curl.
I reach for him automatically, my hands finding his shirt, holding on because apparently I've become addicted to this man.
To his touch.
To his kisses.
To him.
When he finally pulls back, his forehead rests against mine.
And for a moment, neither of us says anything.
We just breathe.
Smile.
Exist together.
“Miss me?” he murmurs.
I laugh softly.
“Terribly.”
His grin appears.
Slow.
Possessive.
Completely unfair to my poor heart.
“Good,” he whispers before stealing another kiss.
And oh yes.
This?
This is definitely my favorite part.