Month seven, day one, I tore off my clothes and stood in front of a full-length mirror on my one leg. I said a final, silentgoodbye to Ben, my leg, and the dreams they held. Then I introduced myself to the reflection in the mirror. I blinked and in that moment Lake Jones was whole again.
New girl.
Single girl.
Single girl with new dreams.
Cage Monaghan flew to China to kiss me. If he didn’t marry me, it would be very awkward for my future husband or children to hear that my greatest memory was another man flying to China to kiss me.
“You’re yawning. You look tired,” I said as we chilled on the couch watching the worst TV shows ever.
Cage glanced at the clock. “Well, I haven’t slept in almost twenty hours, so yeah, I’m a little tired.”
“I’ll shut off the TV. You get ready for bed.”
He shook his head, bringing his fist to his mouth to hide yet another yawn. “It’s fine.”
I liked his blond hair a little messy, his white T-shirt a little wrinkled, and his bare feet propped up on the coffee table in front of the couch. So. Very. Sexy.
I scooted to the end. “Here, lie down.”
I giggled as he tried to maneuver his large body onto the couch without invading my space.
“Put your head on my lap, silly.”
He gave me a questioning look.
“I won’t shave off an eyebrow or write dork on your forehead in permanent marker.” I patted my lap.
Uncoiling his crumpled-up body another foot, he rested his head on my lap.
“No Packers or Bears shit drawn on my face either.”
“Shh…” I pressed my finger to his lips. “Sleep.”
Cage wrapped his hand around my wrist, keeping my finger pressed to his lips as he kissed it. Then he kissed the inside of my wrist before laying my hand over his heart and covering it with his own as he closed his eyes. I had to remind myself to breathe. With my other hand I feathered my fingers over his face in random patterns and softly teased his hair. He hummed or maybe purred like Trzy.
After his whole body visibly relaxed and I was certain that he was asleep, I looked in the direction of God and whispered, “Can I keep him? Pretty please?” I didn’t want to play the you-owe-me card with the creator of the world, but… he owed me.
CHAPTER TWELVE
LITERARY STALKER
Four hours.I spent four hours watching foreign television just so I could stare at Cage and feel his heart beating against the palm of my hand. Eventually, I had to pee. Stupid bladder. My hunky guy—yes, because I’d already claimed him—was dead to the world as I maneuvered myself out from underneath him. After a trip to the bathroom, I decided it was my time to pass out as well. I’d hit my magical wall and the world went black.
The piercing sound of bending metal jolted me from my sleep, panting and sweating. It was the same nightmare. Same sounds. Same feelings.
“Just a dream,” I whispered to myself between labored breaths as I sat up.
A sliver of light escaped the bottom of the bathroom door and the shower was running. Yesterday happened, it wasn’t a dream. That thought alone eased the anxiety from my nightmare. I reached for my phone on the nightstand.
“No. Way.”
Propped up at the base of the lamp was a notecard.
CHAPTER THREE
It made no sense. What? How? Why? I slipped on my leg and went straight to the bathroom, barging in without warning.
