I clench my jaw, nodding.I should have been there.
Her fingers run through my scruff and, as if sensing my turmoil, she murmurs, “You’re here now. That’s all that matters.”
I brush my lips along the inside of her wrist. “I’ll be here. Always.”
We continue the gentle caresses, lost in our own thoughts as we gaze at each other, until her soft voice breaks the silence. “Can I ask you a question?”
“Anything.”
She rubs her lips together, hesitant. “Were there others?”
I open my mouth to answer, but she waves me off. “You know what? You don’t have to tell me. You’d have been well within your rights to have been with others. I mean, I’ve seen pictures . . . and all sorts of women. But it’s honestly none of my business.”
I chuckle. “The first year after you changed your number and told me not to reach out, right after we finalized the divorce, yeah . . . there were a few. They were women I thought I could lose myself in, but no one I ever remotely wanted to be serious with. No one was you. No one even compared. So I just . . . stopped altogether.”
Her brows knit. “What do you mean, ‘stopped altogether’?”
“I haven’t been with anyone in five years.”
She blinks before slowly rising, like sitting upright will help her understand this conversation in a way lying down could never. “Five years?You were, what, celibate for five years before me?”
I shrug, looking up at her from my spot on the pillow. “Yes.”
“But what about those photos I saw? All those women who looked cozy with you at the premieres and galas?”
I smile. “Geez, you were obsessed with me, weren’t you? And here I thought you’d forgotten all about me.”
“Patton.”
“They were nothing. Just dates my publicist encouraged me to take to stir up buzz.”
“So . . . in the past five years, you haven’t evenkissedsomeone?”
“Aside from when I kissed you after the taekwondo tournament last year? Nope.”
“But . . . but what if I never came around? What if things didn’t work out between us, despite your plan?”
“Then I would have waited. I don’t know how long—two years, ten years, my whole life? It doesn’t matter because I didn’t want a replacement, Little Borealis; I wantedyou.”
Her lips part, and for a moment, she just stares at me, like she’s caught between disbelief and reverence. “But that’s . . . crazy, Patton.”
“Yeah, maybe. But so is love.”
She’s quiet for another long moment before she clears her throat. “I’ve been wondering . . . about the nursery.”
“Yeah?”
“Where should we have it?” She licks her lips. “What I mean is, do you think we should have one at my place and one at yours, or . . .?”
I suppress my smile, knowing my girl well enough to know she wants me to fill in the third option because she’s too proud to do it herself. “Or we couldjusthave it at your place.”
Her shoulders slump, and she gives me a resigned nod. “Right. Because you might move back to L.A. again.”
My brows furrow. “Baby, do you know why I flew to L.A. last week?”
“I figured it was something to do with work.”
I take her hand, brushing my lips across her knuckles. “I went there to sign some paperwork. I put my L.A. condo on the market.”
