“Is that all right?”
“It’s all good, Blue. Her name was Olivia. In fact, she used to get wicked migraines.”
“You gave her massages to help?” she gathers.
“I did.”
“And she let you get away?”
“Married a big-shot real estate broker in L.A.”
“I bet she secretly pines for you.”
“No doubt.” I grin, able to joke because I’m well past it.
“So, what happened with you two?”
“We wanted different things. Olivia was restless, chasing something more, something bigger than a life here. I had Soph to think about it. I couldn’t just take off. After two and a half years, she left. It was a blow, but as much as I loved her then, I knew she wasn’t the one.”
“Do you believe in that?” Lexie asks, her voice growing thick and drowsy—the meds kicking in.
“What?”
“Someone destined for you—your soulmate?”
I reflect on her question. “I think a soulmate is someone you have a deep, genuine connection with. Someone who fits so naturally in your life that you can’t imagine it without them. Not because it’s destined, but because you choose to show up every day, fight for your relationship, even when it’s not easy, and love each other fiercely.”
“That soundswonderful,” she murmurs, her words trailing off into a long, wistful sigh. Her breathing slows, her body softly rising and falling.
“Sleep now, Lex.”
“Don’t leave.”
Her vulnerability and trust slip between my ribs and wrap around my heart. A man has to get very close before he can understand the essence of a woman like Lexie—each nuance as subtle and alluring as her scent.
“I won’t leave,” I say, spreading my fingers through her hair and gently massaging her scalp. “I’ll be right here.”
And that’s the hell of it, I realize. I want to be here, to hold her when she’s sad—encourage her when she has doubts. I want to soothe her stress away, watch those lake-blue eyes go bright with laughter, and her pink lips curve with a smile. I want to share her dreams, her joys, her pain. I want to make her coffee every morning and climb into bed with her every night.
“Damn, Blue,” I whisper into the quiet darkness, pulling the soft blanket over her sleeping form. “Looks like I’ve fallen in love with you.”
Iawaken to darkness. For a fleeting, visceral moment, I’m six years old again, terrified of shadows on the walls and monsters under the bed. My heart pounds as I bite down hard on my bottom lip.Don’t cry out. Don’t make a sound.Mother will be angry if I disturb her again.
Then reality sweeps in, scattering the past like dust. I’m not a child anymore. I’m a grown woman who allowed one call fromMiranda Townsen to reduce me to that scared, powerless little girl.
As I lay there, the events of the night trickle in. I’d returned to the cottage in agony, the kind of pain that swallows everything else. After taking my pills, I’d stripped down and pulled my heated blanket over my bare skin, seeking relief where none could be found. By five o’clock, it was obvious that my evening with Chaz was out of the question. Just typing out a cancelation text felt like a monumental task.
But he’d shown up anyway—the kind of man who will always show up. He’d made toast and tea, caring for me in a way I’m not used to. And despite my reservations, I’d let him give me a massage. It hadn’t felt awkwardat all. His hands were indeed magic, his touch warm and firm, kneading me into a puddle of goo while the velvety cadence of his voice smoothed the edges of my pain. That, coupled with the medication, loosened my tongue.
I’d confessed things that I’ve only ever shared with Jordyn and Dee. To everyone else, I’m Alexandra Townsen—poised, competent, and unflappable. I command boardrooms, manage multi-million-dollar portfolios, and navigate the high-pressure world of PR. I got Richard’s medical practice off the ground, hosted fundraisers, and wined and dined clients without showing any chinks in my designer armor. But it was all an illusion—an act crafted out of necessity while hiding the hot mess rioting inside me.
And for what? To make my impossible-to-please parents proud? To fit into a social circle I didn’t even want to belong to? What was the freaking point? This pressure to keep up appearances, to mold myself into their image of perfection, feels so useless. Now I’m here trying to break away, and I still let them get to me.
“Ugh!” I scream into the cushion.
When strong arms come around me, I stifle a gasp. I can’t see him in the inky darkness, but I don’t need to. I recognize his touch and scent even before he draws me onto his lap, before his mouth brushes my hair, and before my body instinctively fits into his.Chaz.
“Bad dream?” His low voice rumbles against my ear.
