But the way he’s staring at me, blue gaze full of heat and meaning, the words I was so ready to say become a mere peep in the back of my throat.
“If we’re being bold,” he takes my hand gently, the feel of his fingertips smooth on my palm. “Then I need to admit something, too.”
My heart races.
His thumb smooths the top of my hand, becoming more serious. “I meant everything I said the other day.”
The lamplight catches every gorgeous angle of his features. “You’re supposed to be mine, Freya. Not just my friend. Not just the mother of my child.” His jaw tics. “Mine.”
My heart drops straight into my fluffy socks. My underarms prickle, heat building under my nightgown. This feels so right, I hardly know what to do with it.
But as much as this makes my heart swell and feel too big for my chest, this is the talk, and I need to be real. “I want you, too. But…”
His eyebrows furrow at the word.
I hurry my words. “But with what you’ve been through in the past, and my history of never having been serious with anyone…”
“You’re not sure about me.”
“No. I’m not sure aboutme.” I sigh. “I don’t know how to be in a relationship.”
He runs his thumb over the front of my hand. “Is that because you don’t want one?”
“No, I do… Well, I never did before, but…” I squeeze his giant hand in mine. “Now I do.”
But I take Anton’s happiness seriously. “I just sometimes wonder if I’m not good at long-term. If maybe my decision-making is too selfish. I don’t know what’s coming and…”
At that, he chuckles lightly.
“What?” I ask.
“Honey, I don’t know what’s coming either.” He links his pinky through mine, serious again. “All I know is that happily-ever-after is a choice.” He lifts our linked fingers and kisses them. “I’m choosing you, Freya.”
I should be scared. I would have been in the past if something like this happened.
I’ve never been someone who leaps before she looks.
But that’s when it clicks.
This isn’t me leaping. This is me standing still long enough to see what’s right in front of me. And he’s right; we’re not choosing certainty. We’re choosing intention. Andfor the first time in my life, I have no intention of returning the man in front of me.
I gaze up into his eyes. Even though the kitchen is shadowed, they shine.
At me.
Forme.
He’s choosing me without needing guarantees.
I don’t feel guarded anymore. What’s left is the part of me that only ever seems to surface with him—the one that’s light, unafraid, and entirely myself.
“Well, Easton.” I rise onto my toes and wrap my arms around his neck. “I guess we’re calling it what it is then. This stopped being surveillance a long time ago. We’re running a joint operation.”
He smirks. “I might be an ex-SEAL, but I’m warning you,”—Anton’s mouth curves— “this time, I don’t have a backup plan.” His gaze drops to my lips.
“Looks like we’re breaking protocol. Because I’m choosing you, too.”
His gaze sweeps my features again, seeking permission, and God, I hope he sees it there, because I want him to take me now.
