He answers me with a soul-searing kiss, drags me inside, slams the door, and proceeds to strip me and then feasts on me like I’m the Thanksgiving dessert he’s been waiting for.
This isn’t Thanksgiving week.
It’s Orgasmgiving week.
And it’s amazing.
We’re lying in bed together in the wee hours of the morning, tired but so, so physically satisfied, his heartbeat strong beneath my ear, my fingers playing with the hair on his chest, his fingers stroking the hair on my head, when I can’t hold in the lingering insecurity anymore. “Are you going to dump me after this week?” I whisper.
He stills. “You think I’d dump you?”
“We’re ... hiding. And when Junie gets back—”
I’m suddenly flipped on my back, and a moment later, the lamp switches on. He looms over me, his face inches from mine, his body covering all of me, and he growls. “I amnotdumping you.”
“So how—”
“And I amnotembarrassed to be seen with you. And I don’twantto hide with you.”
“Okay.”
“That didn’t sound like a realokay.”
I sigh and rub my hands over my face. “I don’t know what Junie will think, but I know I have to address it. I can’tnot.”
“So we’ll go slow.” He brushes a strand of hair off my forehead. “You want me to ask her permission to date her mother?”
“The soccer team—”
“If anyone has the nerve to suggest I’d play favorites after what I put her through this fall, they can go fuck themselves.”
I feel a smile peeking out. “You’re kinda adorable when you go caveman.”
“Cavemen are not adorable.”
“And yet, here you are, being a caveman and being adorable ...”
“You’re deflecting.”
“You spend seventeen years married to someone who takes you for granted, the last six neglecting your daughter, move across the country, get obsessed with your grumpy but adorable neighbor with understandable commitment issues, and tell me you wouldn’t want to deflect too.”
He studies me in the soft glow of the lamp. “I like you, Maisey Spencer,” he says quietly. “I like you enough to tell you I like you, and that’s more than I’ve admitted to any woman in years.”
“I like you, too,” I whisper. “And it’s scary. And I don’t know what Junie will think.”
I kiss her forehead. “So ask her.”
“I put a man’s needs ahead of hers foryears. More years than I have left with her before she goes to college.”
“I’m not Dean.”
I huff. “I’mwellaware. You’ve done more for my daughter than her own father has lately. But that doesn’t mean she sees it that way.”
He settles onto the bed, still half leaning on me, and kisses my shoulder. “Tony used to talk about you like you hung the moon. I didn’t understand why he bothered when he’d always tell me you had your own life, you had better things to do than visit an old coot like him. But I get it now. You’re a star, Maisey. Not a TV star. A celestial star, shining bright, bringing hope and inspiration everywhere you go. You say you neglected June the past six years. But did you? Did you call her every day when you were gone? Did you send her things that made you think of her while you were on the road?”
“Of course, but that’s the absolute bareminimumof what a parent should—”
“Did Dean do it?”
