“Did you leave the letters and the diary in there on purpose?”
Instantly, I’m even more awake than I was a minute ago. I’d completely forgotten about them. Fear blazes through me when, for a moment, I think he’s found me out. Did he read the letters to the baby? Does he know the secret I’m keeping? Wait…no. Those weren’t in that diary. They’re in a new diary I keep in my nightstand.
I sink further into my pillow, the relief knowing that inevitable conversation doesn’t have to happen right now is palpable. “No. Did you read them?”
“I read one of your diary entries and a few of the letters I’d sent you.”
He read more of my diary. He’s read some of his letters. That has to mean something. Is he really ready to try to get back to being us?
He laughs half-heartedly. “I was one whipped puppy, wasn’t I?”
“We were in love, Trevor.”
Were.
It’s not lost on me how I used the word in past tense. And that realization has a new level of sadness weaving through me like a scaly serpent.
He runs a hand down the side of his face then pinches his chin. “Is it strange that I’m kind of jealous of the guy who wasable to say all those things?” His head shakes slowly. “It’s hard to reconcile the fact that I’m that guy. Or I was anyway. But I’m glad I read them. It helps me understand how you are around me.”
He blows out a long, frustrated breath, then leans back on the pillow and crosses his legs at the ankles, showing no interest in doing anything but talking. He’s shirtless, wearing only a pair of sweatpants. It’s hard not to stare at his chiseled abs and the way they contract with every movement of his legs.
I long to scoot closer. Put my hands on his mostly smooth chest. Run my fingertips over the smattering of hair. Trace the new scars along his left side that make him seem even edgier. Lay my head on his shoulder while he wraps his arm around me and rubs my back in that way he would do in those moments right before we’d fall asleep. Will those things ever happen again?
“When you told me earlier all the ways I’m different, I didn’t truly get it.” He turns toward me, slips a hand under the pillow, and stares into my eyes. “I’m sorry I’m not that guy. He was a much better man than I am.” His face is still partially in shadows, but I can see enough to make out the pain behind his eyes. “Maybe you deserve better, Ava.”
My pulse pounds with fear. “What are you saying?”
“Maybe we shouldn’t do this. Any of it. Me being here. Us trying to force something we can’t have. I’m obviously not the Trevor you want. And I fear I never can be.”
More guilt sears through me. I thought he was coming in here for sex. But the opposite is true. He’s here to…break up with me?
I have to do something. Because as conflicted as I am, I still don’t want him to leave. I’m not ready to give up yet. I’m not even close.
“I never answered your question,” I blurt out.
He eyes me with confusion.
“You asked if I liked it.”
He lifts a brow. “So… did you?”
“Yes.” I hesitate. “And no.”
He snorts out a stifled laugh. “Can you be a little more specific?”
“Like I told you, it was different.”
“Different good or different bad?”
I sigh rather explosively, vowing not to tell him any more lies. “That’s the problem, Trevor. I did like it. The way you touched me. How you spoke to me.” I swallow. “How I had two orgasms, which hasn’t ever happened.” I close my eyes. “And I didn’t like it for all those same reasons. Because it almost felt like I was cheating on my husband.”
My eyes fly open when his finger skims my jaw, leaving a trail of heat. “Ava,I’myour husband.”
My heart both expands and contracts with the same beat. It’s the first time he’s referred to himself that way. But we both know what he said isn’t entirely true.
“You are and you aren’t.” I trap his hand against my face, kiss his palm, then move it away from me. “What if you get your memory back and are mad at me for liking sex with this new version of you?”
“I wouldn’t be mad.”
