I unhook his belt, and he helps me push his pants down. Then, his boxers. Then, my hands go around him, and all I hear are his sighs in my hair.
“With me what?”
He moves his head, and his mouth closes over my nipple again as his hands slide my panties off my hips.
I hold my breath as he touches me right where I need him between my thighs. And then I stammer out, “With you it feels right. Not a fantasy but actually better.”
He slides his finger inside me, and I grip his shoulders tightly.
“We’ll still have fights.” He kisses my lips. “We’ll still drive each other crazy.” He kisses my neck. “But we’ll never stop working at it.” A longer kiss on my mouth. “And we’ll never walk away again.”
I shift back so I can look at him before I glance over at my purse sitting about five feet away on the table.
Logan turns his head in the direction I’m looking. “I’ll go get a condom,” he offers.
I shake my head. “Don’t.”
“I thought you weren’t on the pill anymore.”
“I’m not.”
He straightens up purposefully, and his eyes grow intensely focused.
He cocks his head slightly. “You’re saying…”
“Yes,” I say, and a smile tugs at the corner of his lips. “That’s exactly what I’m saying. But only if we’re on the same page.”
He brings his cheek next to mine and kisses my face softly. “We’re always on the same page. I can’t wait to start a family with you.”
A long while later, we finally leave the kitchen and stumble into Logan’s bed, exhausted.
“Still haven’t made love in a bed,” he says as we climb beneath the sheets.
“That’s for tomorrow,” I say. “I love you.”
“I love you more.”
We stay up for hours talking about the past, all of it, and all the times we were sure, and all the times we weren’t. And all of it’s finally okay.
Epilogue
The next morning I roll my naked self over and reach for a naked Logan.
He opens his eyes and kisses my wrist. Then, he kisses it again. And pulls my arm awkwardly right up to his eyeballs.
“What the hell are you doing?” I say.
“Sorry. But you’ve got to look at this.”
He thrusts my arm at my face now.
“Logan, seriously, don’t you know it’s rude to just take somebody’s body part and shove it around like it’s not attached to them…”
“Look at your scar.” His voice has an odd urgency to the tone.
I turn my wrist over. And now I’m pressing my wrist up to my eyeballs.
Because—
