Downstairs, they sat on the sofa again. He let go of her hand then. She tried not to wish that he hadn’t.
“So, how are you feeling?” he asked.
Lonely, she thought.I’ve missed you so much…
But of course she didn’t say that. It would sound much too needy coming from the woman who’d refused to marry him. “I feel great,” she said. “Honestly. No problems—those will come later. The aching back, the swollen ankles. But right now, what morning sickness I had seems to be over, and I’m not to the lumbering around stage yet.”
The way he looked at her. It made her feel so…cherished, somehow. And beautiful. And wanted, too. She had missed that so much—wanting him, knowing that he wanted her right back…
“I’ve missed you.” There. She’d gone and said those words anyway. They’d slipped past her lips so easily.
And maybe that was okay now. After all, a month had passed since she’d turned down his proposal. There was a certain distance between them now—as there should be, she reminded herself, hating that distance even as she understood the need for it.
“I’ve missed you, too,” he said. In his eyes she saw too much. He was still hurt that she’d turned him down.
She almost said,I’m sorry.
But an apology would never fix what had gone wrong between them. He wanted more. She couldn’t let herself give more. Where were they supposed to go with that?
“I should leave,” he said.
“Please, Josh. Not yet.” Her own words shocked her. She sounded desperate. And hungry…
Because she was. Hungry for another few minutes with him. Desperate just to sit here beside him. It didn’t matter what they did. They could talk about nothing—or be quiet together. Or maybe microwave a bag of popcorn and watch a couple of episodes ofSchitt’s CreekorLongmire…
He studied her face. “What? You want to talk…?”
“Josh, I just want you to stay a little bit longer.”
He nodded. “Okay.Longmire?”
Warmth flooded through her. Because he knew her so well. “Yes, please.”
He was already reaching for the remote.
* * *
Josh heard whispering. He opened his eyes to the glow of daylight slipping in around shut curtains—and Shane standing next to Dillon on the other side of the coffee table staring straight at him. Roger sat panting happily between the two boys.
“Your dad’s awake,” whispered Dillon. “Look. His eyes are open.”
“Dad,” Shane said softly. “Is it okay if we get our own cereal?”
Blinking, Josh glanced down at Riley—sound asleep, her head in his lap. How had that happened? Last thing he remembered, she was leaning against him. He’d loved that, the warmth of her body touching his, the scent of her hair, the feel of it so soft against his skin. He’d been thinking he ought to pull away, get a little distance.
But he’d done no such thing. It had been around midnight then, hadn’t it? They’d been on season three, episode five ofLongmire. Had they slept clear through to season four? He had no idea. But on the screen above the fireplace,Longmireplayed on. He raised the remote. The screen went dark.
“Ask him again,” whispered Dillon.
“Dad? Cereal? Dillon’s got Cheerios and…?” Shane looked to Dillon.
“Banana Nut CrunchandCrunchy Pecan,” Dillon elaborated with a hopeful smile. “Mom lets me get my cereal by myself.”
“Sure,” Josh replied softly as he rubbed at the back of his neck. It was stiff from sleeping sitting up. “But be quiet…”
“We will.”
“And you should probably let Roger out in back for a few minutes.”
