“Okay,” I squeak and tiptoe toward the door, Binx’s paws padding behind me. I press the bottom button and say, “I’ll be here.”
“Okay.”
The line goes dead.
And it’s fine because he’s almost here and I’m okay with it. Partly, maybe, because I don’t think I need a break fromhim. I never thought I would be lucky enough to have someone Iwould never need a break from, but here I am, opening my front door just in time to see that person jogging down the hall to my door with his golden hair bouncing around like a prancing dog and a grin on his lips.
It’s the rush I get from seeing the person who makes me incredibly, inhumanely happy walking toward me that tells you all I need to know, I think. Almost everything I know about love I’ve learned from my friends and my parents. That’s why I’m certain that whatever is brewing in my chest the moment he stops before me with a heavy breath and a smile that could make me cry, is exactly what I’m scared of.
“I’m here,” Rowan exhales. “I’m here.”
I stifle my grin. “You didn’t have to run.”
“Of course I did.” He gives me that golden boy grin that makes my heart sputter. “I was…excited.”
“To see me?”
“Always to see you.”
I huff, smiling and mentally kicking my feet. “Come in.”
I step aside and open the door wider. Binx circles around each of his legs as he steps out of his sneakers, nuzzling her head against him, an obvious tell that she missed him. He kneels to show my cat some love.
Binx purrs and he smiles down at her, and it feels like a pretty perfect world when it’s like this. I mean, pets often become their owners’ children, right? Okay, so it’s like watching my child with Rowan, and Rowan looks great with children. He would probably also look great withrealchildren, enough to make my ovaries explode just imagining having a child with him.
Should I really be thinking about having his kids right now?
Hmm, probably not. But imagining a little boy that lookslike a mix of us with curly, spiraling, golden hair and eyes a mixture of ours.
Damn it.
Rowan stands, cradling Binx in his arms like a baby—really driving my thoughts home with that—and kisses her little head. Her eyes close, happiness written on her face as he scratches around her ears. Then, the man with beautiful golden hair, tanned skin, a smile to die for, and ocean eyes finally looks at me.
“How has your day been?”
“G-Good, yours?”
“Better now.”
Do his cheeks not hurt from all this smiling?
My cheeks heat and I shift on my feet. “Hey, so, I’m not…” I take a breath. “I’m not in the mood for?—”
“I don’t care,” he says and sets Binx down gently in her living room cat bed. “I didn’t come here for that.”
“Then why?—”
“I came foryou,” Rowan rasps, taking a step toward me. “After all this time, you still don’t get that?”
“Why?”
“You know why, sweetheart,” he says, his voice low and deep, as his arm comes around me. He splays his hand at the small of my back and steps into me. “How are you feeling today?”
“Good,” I rasp. “Fine.”
“I hate that word.”
“I hate you,” I say, almosttoolovingly. I say the three words as though it were a synonym for the other infamous three words I can’t say.
