“I’ve never beenthis full in my entire life,” Zalea groans, clutching her stomach.
We just finished a seven-course dinner at the resort, which might’ve been overly ambitious considering the late lunch we had earlier.
“You’re going to pass out the second we get back to the room,” I say, grinning as the elevator doors slide open onto our floor.
“Yup.” She pats her stomach. “No sexy time for you tonight.”
“Oh, come on,” I murmur, my voice dropping as I slide a hand around her waist. “I saved room for dessert.”
She laughs, slipping out of my hold and darting down the hallway toward our suit. I chase after her, but she gets the door unlocked and ducks inside just before I catch her.
“There’s nowhere left to run, Red,” I call, stepping in as the door clicks shut behind me.
“You are obsessed!” she shrieks through giggles, fleeing into the bathroom.
“With you?” I follow. “Who wouldn’t be?”
I corner her gently against the glass shower door, bracing my hands above her shoulders. She bites her lip, eyes warm and expectant. Reaching out, I free her lip from her teeth, brushing my thumb over it before pressing a soft kiss there.
When I pull back, she exhales.
“I really do think I’m too tired tonight,” she admits.
“That’s alright,” I say, kissing her once more. “Want me to run you a bath?”
She smiles appreciatively and nods. “As long as there are bubbles.”
I snort. “Such a kid.”
“Oh, shut up,” she laughs, nudging me before heading toward her suitcase.
While she picks out comfortable pajamas to wear after her bath, and unpacks her toiletries, I run the bath with plenty of warm water and foam. Once it’s ready she undresses, and I help her step in, steadying her as she sinks into the bubbles with a satisfied sigh.
I start toward the door but her voice stops me short.
“Stay.”
When I turn back, she’s watching me with a sleepy, soft smile.
“You want me to sit in here while you bathe?”
She nods. “Talk to me,” she says quietly. “What’s been eating at you?”
My breath leaves me in a dry laugh as I rub the back of my neck and sit on the edge of the tub. She reads me far too easily and I’m convinced I must be transparent around her.
“I’ve been thinking about what you said at lunch,” I admit. “About me being a good dad.”
Her brows lift, and she sits a little straighter, no longer as tired as before.
“What about it?” she asks gently.
I stare at the bathwater for a moment before answering.
“I’m trying to figure out if you’re right.” I hesitate, searching for words that don’t come easily. “What if I’ve been projecting my own experience onto it? Growing up with a father who failedme…maybe I just assumed that’s the blueprint I’d follow too. That if I ever tried to build a family, I’d end up repeating the same mistakes.”
I exhale slowly.
“I don’t know how to separate who he was from who I might be.”
