“What?” I ask incredulously, pulling my head away from hers. “Seriously? Show me.”
“Right now?” she replies, pointing down to where we’re still joined. “Do you really want me to get off you to show you a tattoo?”
“Which foot?” I ask, ignoring her rhetorical question.
“Left.” I push her slightly to my right, then look down to where her foot is beside my knee. On the outside of her foot, I see a small line of print, featuring my birthday.
I look up at her in wonder, then feel a shit-eating grin cover my face. “I fucking knew you were as gone for me as I was for you.”
Ella rolls her eyes playfully. “Uh-huh. That’s why you called so much.”
Sitting upright, I capture her face in my hands, and wait until her eyes meet mine. “Let’s get something crystal clear, baby. I had to give my phone to one of my guys, because I couldn’t be trusted with it. I’d have called you nonstop if I thought there was even a sliver of a chance you’d have taken me back. There hasn’t been one day, or even one hour, when I wasn’t lost for you. There has never been anyone but you.”
“Yeah, right,” she scoffs sarcastically.
“Baby, I’m not kidding.” I pause, letting that sink in. “There’s never been anyone else.”
“You mean dating, right?” she asks warily.
“No. I mean anyone period. I haven’t dated, kissed, fucked, or even looked at another woman since the moment I saw you in the eighth grade. You’ve always been it for me, El.”
Her eyes widen comically. “No one?”
I shake my head. “There will never be anyone who could compare to you. I’ll only ever want you.”
Ella lurches forward, covering my lips with hers. I wrap my arms around her frame, crushing her body to mine as she kisses me desperately. “Me too. No one else, I mean. I couldn’t forget you, and the thought of doing anything with someone else felt so awful. God, Leo, I can’t believe we’ve both been apart this long without —”
I stop her with another kiss, feeling a wild energy inside of me that I haven’t felt in a long time. Years, even. I feel like I’m getting my girl back, and everything is finally falling into place. At the ripe old age of thirty-eight.
“I need you to move, baby,” I rasp against her lips, aware that our kisses are turning me on a little too much, and I’m liable to embarrass myself if I can’t get her off first. As Ella begins to move, I slip a hand between our bodies, finding her clit. I’m only able to strum it a few times before she holds her breath, her walls clamping down on me, and I bury my head against her neck as I groan out my own release.
Perfection. Absolute perfection.
I’m finally home.
ELLA
Everyone thought I was crazy when I couldn’t seem to move on from Leo. How if I’d only just “gotten back on the horse,” everything would be fine. Whitley suggested one-night stands, dating websites, and even going to bars to find anyone willing to hook up. She figured if I could have a few male-centered orgasms, I’d be able to get past my memories of Leo.
There was no moving past him. He’s been the only one in my heart since I was a teenager. All this time, I couldn’t fathom being with someone else, and I naturally assumed he’d had no trouble finding women. To know he couldn’t move on from me? God, I feel so much better knowing I wasn’t the only one struggling so much.
“Let’s go to bed, baby,” Leo whispers against my hair. After cleaning up, we’d cuddled on the couch, chatting about our favorite memories from when we were kids. Leo turned on the television for a bit, and I happily snuggled against him as he gently dragged his fingers through my hair. It was peaceful and perfect.
“Mmm-hmm,” I murmur, not moving an inch, making Leo chuckle. As I feel him shift to slide an arm under my knees, I smile, knowing he’s planning to carry me to bed. I let him, because there’s nowhere I feel safer than in Leo’s arms, and I know he enjoys taking care of me.
Leo lays me down in bed, then slides in next to me, pulling myback against his front, and I sigh happily. I went years without falling asleep like this, and the wave of peace I feel is so comforting.
Until the last moment before I slip into sleep, when I remember that I still don’t know how to tell Leo I’m carrying his child. The wave of comfort is gone, and I toss and turn all night.
“You were restless last night,” Leo comments, his voice nonchalant as he sips a coffee next to me at the table. Oliver was so thrilled to find Leo here this morning, and happily ate eggs and toast with Leo while they watched cartoons. Now, as I’m feeding Violet some infant cereal with pureed carrots, I avoid his gaze. I know the even-keeled tone, though. He sounds relaxed, but he’s observing everything. Taking in every detail to determine how he should react.
“It happens sometimes,” I finally answer. I’m not ready to explain why. I’m freaked about possibly miscarrying, and I don’t think I can handle hurting Leo by telling him I’m having his baby, and then ripping that chance away from him. Plus, I’m definitely not discussing this around the kids.
I’ve seen how great Leo is with kids. He was made to be a father. It’s almost as if Oliver and Violet like him more than they like me. Leo’s nieces and nephews flock to him, because he has this calming and accepting personality unlike anyone I’ve ever met. I still haven’t forgiven myself for miscarrying years ago, and until I get to a doctor to find out that this baby is real, and I’m not likely to miscarry again, I won’t be telling Leo anything.
“You sure you’re okay?” he asks, his eyes intense as he watches me. “Seems like you’re struggling with something.”
I attempt to shrug nonchalantly. “Guess I’m just tired. Maybe you wore me out.”
