"That sounds familiar."
"I learned it from someone."
Later, after dinner and the rituals of ordinary life, we ended up on the couch.
His head on my shoulder, my arm around him, the TV on but neither of us watching.
"I want forever," he said quietly.
The words landed deep.
"Forever's a long time."
"Is that a no?"
"That's an 'I'll try not to mess it up.'"
"Good enough for me."
He tilted his head up. I kissed him. Deep. Certain. The kind of kiss that made promises I wasn't sure I could keep.
When we broke apart, he was smiling.
"Sunday dinner with the Langfords," he said. "You ready?"
I thought about it: the wealthy family, the Manhattan townhouse, the careful scrutiny of people who'd spent their lives judging others.
"I've faced Taliban ambushes that scared me less."
He laughed, genuine and bright.
"You'll be fine," he said. "They'll love you."
"You don't know that."
"I know I love you." His eyes held mine. "That's what they'll see. How happy you make me, how much better my life is with you in it." He pressed a kiss to my jaw. "The rest is details."
I pulled him closer and held on.
Forever was a long time. But looking at him, feeling him warm and certain in my arms, I could almost believe it was possible.
Sunday dinner with the Langfords.
I had a week to prepare. A week to figure out how to be the kind of man who deserved this—this life, this person, this second chance I'd never expected.
The fear was still there. Probably always would be.
But so was Tobias. And that made all the difference.
Chapter 21
Tobias
Vance hadn't said a word in twenty minutes.
His hands gripped the steering wheel, knuckles white. Jaw clenched. Eyes fixed on the road as if he were driving into a combat zone instead of Manhattan.
"You okay?" I asked.
