46. Chapter 46
Cate
Present
Breakfast felt like an extension of the honeymoon, just thinner around the edges.
Trevor talked easily as he drove, one hand on the wheel, the other resting on my thigh.
I let myself lean into the warmth of it, the familiarity.
The streets passed by in a blur of sunlight and memory, and for a little while, I pretended that was all it was - jet lag and the strange disorientation of coming home.
The restaurant was busy, bright, alive.
Normal.
I ordered what I always ordered. Eggs. Toast. Coffee this time, even though my stomach fluttered when the mug was set in front of me.
“You okay?” Trevor asked, studying me over the rim of his cup.
“Yeah,” I said, and meant it. Or wanted to. “Just… adjusting.”
He smiled, reaching across the table to lace his fingers with mine. “That makes sense.”
I squeezed back, grounding myself in the simple fact of his hand, his presence. Seth’s words from the reception drifted through my mind. He would be happy for you. I held onto that thought like a lifeline.
“So, they were okay with you missing work today?”
He grinned, loosening his tie, something I never saw him do. “I’ve been gone two weeks, what’s one more day?”
“Well, when you put it that way…” I couldn’t help but return his smile. Everything had been so easy when we were in St. Lucia. Maybe what I needed was a change in scenery. Maybe it was time to leave Colorado…
I let the idea simmer in my head as Trevor talked about one of his clients who wouldn’t stop emailing while we were gone. I listened, nodding in the right places, letting the rhythm of it wash over me.
When we got back to the house, Trevor kicked off his shoes and stretched, glancing over at me. “What do you say we keep the rest of the day low-key? Watch a movie, order in for dinner, whatever you want.”
I didn’t hesitate. “That sounds perfect.”
He looked pleased - relieved, maybe - and followed me into the living room. I curled up beside him on the couch, tucking my legs beneath me as he pulled a blanket over us both. His arm came around my shoulders, solid and warm, and I rested my head against his chest.
The movie played. Some romantic comedy we’d half-watched before. I laughed when I was supposed to, even snuggled closer when the characters kissed on screen.
I was trying.
My thoughts wandered anyway, back to the townhouse, to the phone I’d left behind on the counter. I knew it was there, along with the voicemail that had derailed me. And who knew how many missed calls I had from Seth at this point.
I also knew my car was still parked out front. If I wanted to go get it, I’d have to ask Trevor for a ride.
I sighed, not ready to deal with any of it yet, and knowing there was no way out of it.
“Everything okay?” Trevor murmured, brushing his thumb along my arm.
I nodded quickly and tilted my face up to kiss him. “Yeah. I’m good. Just tired.”
He accepted that easily, pressing a kiss to my hair. “You don’t have to rush anything.”
That should’ve comforted me. Instead, I felt the strange pull of it - the way slowing down also meant staying right where I was. Meant giving myself time and space to think, to sit with all the messy feelings that were trying to run rampant through my system.
No. I couldn’t slow down, not yet anyway.
Later, as evening settled in and the house grew quiet, Trevor disappeared into the kitchen to make popcorn. I stayed curled on the couch, listening to the familiar sounds, telling myself that this, this, was what moving on looked like.
Not forgetting.
Just choosing something new.
I could never forget John, but if I were being honest, it was time I moved on.
When Trevor came back, he set the bowl between us and pulled me close again. I let myself relax into his side, into the easy rhythm of shared space and shared silence.
When Trevor shifted beside me, adjusting the blanket, I felt the subtle change in his breathing before he spoke.
“You’re quiet,” he said gently.
“I’m okay,” I replied, and this time I didn’t rush it. I traced slow, absent circles against his chest, feeling the steady beat beneath my palm. “I just… don’t want today to end yet.”
He tilted his head down, brushing his lips against my hair. “Then it doesn’t have to.”
Something in my chest loosened.
I lifted my face to his, kissing him. Soft at first, almost tentative. He responded immediately, his hand sliding to my waist, pulling me closer like it was the most natural thing in the world.
I deepened the kiss.
Not because he asked.
Because I wanted to.
The world narrowed to the warmth between us, the familiar pull of shared breath and shared space. I shifted onto his lap, knees sinking into the couch cushions, his hands finding their way to my back, my hips. There was no rush, no hunger edged with anger, just closeness. Heat. Relief.
I pressed my forehead to his and laughed quietly, the sound surprising even me. “This is reckless,” I murmured.
He smiled against my mouth. “You always did like reckless.”
The words struck something tender and raw. Instead of pulling away, I leaned in, kissing him again, slower this time. Deeper. I reached for the buttons of his shirt, fingers fumbling just slightly as I worked them free, wanting to feel more of him, wanting to do something with my hands.
I barely got the second one undone before his grip changed.
His fingers closed around my wrists, firm but not rough, lifting my hands above my head with an ease that made my breath catch.
He held them there with one hand while the other slid beneath the hem of my top.
He lifted my shirt over my head in one smooth motion, barely breaking the kiss, and I let my arms go slack as it slipped free.
His mouth followed immediately - my neck, my collarbone - lingering there like he was taking his time, like he had nowhere else to be.
I tilted my head back, giving him more without thinking.
His lips traced lower, unhurried, and I felt the tug of lace as he caught the edge of my bra between his teeth, pulling it aside just enough to make me gasp.
He didn’t rush it. He didn’t need to. One hand came up, fingers deft and practiced as the clasp released, and then it was gone, discarded somewhere behind the couch without ceremony.
I rocked against him, needing the contact, the friction, the reassurance that this was real. His mouth followed the movement, attentive and careful, like he was listening to my body more than my breath.
Then his hand slid lower.
I felt the shift as he unbuckled his belt, the soft sound of it giving way beneath his fingers. He popped the button of his slacks, lowered the zipper, lifting his hips just enough to free himself.
I stood without being asked, pushing my shorts and panties down my legs and stepping out of them, the cool air brushing over my skin. My hands trembled as I moved back toward him, but he was already reaching for me, settling me over him with quiet intention.
The moment I sank down, my head tipped back, a sharp breath leaving me as thought gave way to sensation. There was nothing in my mind now - only heat, closeness, the way my body responded without permission.
His hands came to my hips, guiding me. Not stopping me, but directing me. Slowing me when I moved too fast, pulling me closer when I tried to pull away. Even when I was on top, even when it felt like I was choosing the rhythm, it was his hands that decided.
His mouth traced familiar paths, grounding, possessive in its patience.
When I shifted again, chasing more, he moved without hesitation - lifting, turning us with an ease that stole my breath. I found myself pressed gently into the couch cushions, his weight settling over me, steady and sure.
He set the pace then, deliberate at first, building gradually. Every time my nails dug into his shoulders, every time I arched beneath him, his movements sharpened, like the reaction fueled him instead of slowed him.
I clung to him, breathless, letting him take me where he wanted to go.
Later, when the world finally came back into focus, we lay tangled together beneath the blanket. His hand moved in slow, absent lines along my spine, grounding me again.
“I love you,” he said softly, like there was no doubt left in it.
I closed my eyes and let myself believe it.
“I love you too.”