“You’d hate the tattoo.”
“I would, but that’s not the point. The point is commitment.”
He looks at me.
“Fine,” I mutter. “I know you’re committed.”
“Good.”
I blush. The way he says “good” is like catnip to me.
“If you really needed me to, I’d tattoo your name over my heart,” he says matter-of-factly.
My jaw drops.
“I’d tattoo your name on my chest without blinking if that’s what it takes to make you feel safe,” he says.
My breath catches. He means that.
Caspian would tattoo my name on his chest without blinking.
I swallow.
“I don’t need you to do that.”
“I know.”
Something more serious crosses my mind next.
“Caspian?”
“Yes, sweetie.”
I notice that my hands are trembling slightly.
“I want to move in no matter what,” I whisper. “Even if Ryan moved here. I don’t want him to decide what we do.”
“That is so brave. I’m so proud of you, baby. I also want us to live together no matter what.”
“Do you think he’ll do it?”
Caspian falls silent.
“You can probably answer it best yourself. I think that given the chance, he would.”
I agree. It would be awful. I’d survive it, but it would still be a nightmare.
“But I’m also sure that Baywood won’t give him that chance,” he adds.
“Can we measure the wall next—for the bookshelf?”
I climb out of the bath, dripping, determined, and maybe slightly less dramatic than I was in the afternoon.
Caspian nods, wrapping me in a towel like I’m his most cherished special edition.
He kisses me, then I kiss him, and we go back and forth.
It takes a while before we get downstairs.
