I take the phone back, staring at his words. A suite. A crib for Poppy. No pressure.
"I have to go," Rowan says suddenly, gathering her purse. "Early shift tomorrow."
I look up, confused by her abrupt departure. "But we didn't finish."
"Yes, we did." She smiles, already moving toward the door. "Your face when you read that text told me everything I need to know."
"What do you mean?"
She pauses, hand on the doorknob. "You're going to Denver. You're going to tell him everything. And you're terrified—but you're doing it anyway." Her smile widens. "That's the sister I know."
After she leaves, I stand in the silent apartment, phone clutched in my hand. She's right. I am going to Denver. I am going to tell Axel everything. And I am absolutely terrified.
I take a deep breath and type my reply.
Me: Yes to Denver. But just us. Rowan can watch Poppy.
I hit send before I can second-guess myself. Anticipation buzzes through me as I watch the three dots appear, disappear, then appear again.
Axel: Just us?
Me: Is that okay?
Axel: More than okay. I just didn't want to assume.
Relief washes through me. He's not pushing, not assuming, just accepting what I'm comfortable with.
Me: I need a night where I'm not just Poppy's mom. Where I can just be… me.
I stare at the message after sending it, shocked by my own honesty. I've never admitted that to anyone, not even Rowan. The guilt that usually follows such a thought is strangely absent.
Axel: I want that for you. Just Sadie. No café, no court date, no responsibilities. Just you.
I sink onto the couch, pulling my knees to my chest.
Me: What will we do in this fancy suite?
Axel: Whatever you want. Order room service. Watch bad movies. Sleep for 12 hours straight.
I smile, imagining it, a big bed with expensive sheets, no alarm clock, no baby monitor, no responsibilities waiting for me downstairs.
Me: That sounds perfect.
Axel: Or…
Anticipation coils tight in my stomach at that single word.
Me: Or?
Axel: Or I could spend hours learning every way you like to be touched. I want your legs trembling, Sadie. I want you begging me not to stop.
Me: I'd like that.
Axel: Yeah? Because I haven't been able to stop thinking about you. About how you felt. How you tasted.
I inhale sharply as I shift on the couch, suddenly too warm.
Me: What exactly have you been thinking about?
