“He was a lot, for sure.” My cheeks ache from smiling. We’ve had a lot of laughs down memory lane tonight. “That trip was fun.”
“Yeah. It was… We’ve had a lot of great trips.”
“We have.”
His eyes burn into mine, and it’s so comfortable, so familiar, but it sparks a buzz under my skin. I look away, letting my gaze wander around the room until it lands on a plant one of Dad’s neighbors dropped off. I laugh quietly to myself. Like Dad could ever keep a plant alive.
I turn back to Jensen. “How’s Phyllis?”
“Random subject change,” he says with a grin, “but alive and thriving. I know how important she is to you.”
My brows pull together. “But you were gone for three months. Who watered her?”
“I told Matt when I left that if I came home and Phyllis was dead…” He puffs out a laugh. “I’d have no shot at getting you back.”
That makes me laugh. “Are you serious?”
“Dead.”
“Thank you.”
He leans in just a little, his voice softer. “All I ever want is to make you happy, babe.”
Babe.
He keeps calling me that, like old times—like we’ve fallen back into the roles of husband and wife.
I don’t stop him.
His expression shifts, serious now, as his eyes roam over my face with something I can only describe as longing. Butterflies stir low in my stomach, an almost foreign feeling.
I forgot.
Forgot what it feels like?—
To have Jensen Adams look at me like that.
“You should come see her.” He scoots a little closer, his hand reaching for mine. He takes it gently, rests it on the couch between us, and starts tracing my palm with his finger.
His touch glides across my skin, mapping the lines and patterns like he’s memorizing them.
Holy shit, I can’t breathe.
A current shoots straight to my core, igniting something that’s been buried for too long.
Desire. Fear. Need.
It all collides inside me, swirling until I can’t tell one from the other.
He smooths his palm flat against mine. “Al,” he says softly, his voice low.
“Don’t,” I whisper, my vision blurring. “Please, don’t.”
I don’t know what’s happening.
And I don’t know what to do.
His eyes flutter shut, and he takes a deep breath. He doesn’t speak, just squeezes my hand, then lets go.
