All of my dreams have them in it.
He looks at me—reallylooks.
His thumb brushes my cheekbone. “What are you thinking?”
Everything.
Nothing.
Far toofreakingmuch.
I glance down at my planner, its contents scattered in every direction, then back up at him. “This isn’t what I planned.”
His expression shifts, just barely. “No?”
I shake my head slowly. “No.”
“Are you sorry?” His question is even, calm…but beneath that?
There’s something else.
Something raw.
Like my answer matters more than I think.
And that’s when I remember I’m not in this alone.
Heart squeezing, I touch his jaw. “Not even a little.”
He exhales and it’s shaky, and when he kisses me again, there’s something almost desperate in it.
Like he wants to believe me.
Like…he’s as scared as I am.
And maybe that should worry me.
Instead, it only makes me hold on tighter.
At least until Chloe’s show is over and we hear…
“Daddy, Olive’s climbing the curtains again!”
Thirty
Rhodes
“Look!”Chloe calls as I’m walking through the kitchen, tying my tie.
I glance down at her automatically.
And my stomach drops.
It’s not scribbles this time. She’s getting better at drawing, at writing, and it’s easy to identify the five of us.
Chloe.
Me.
