God, how to explain it? Because I was just starting out but I also wanted toonly be here? Because I absolutely could not take a break to settle down and have kids, but he made me want to transform into a baby factory?
Because he was worth more than traveling all the time and never knowing where the next job was and flirting with producers and film execs just so I could get on their good side? Because I had to be single to sell my brand?
I guess I took too long to respond, because he shook his head with a soft smile.
“It’s complicated,” he said. “I get it.”
I glanced down his body, where we were pressed together and warm. “It doesn’t feel complicated right now.”
“And we can keep it that way, if that’s what you want,” he said.
No. No way.
Hecouldn’tbe that unproblematic…could he?
And why did that kind of make me mad?
He rolled off of me and onto his back, his arm still around my shoulders. I turned to face him, spreading my hand over his pec, curling into the soft, dark hair on his chest. I found the little silver medal, cool against his skin, and I hummed.
“St. Christopher’s Medal, right?”
He grunted. “You know your saints.”
“I was raised Catholic,” I said with a soft laugh.
“My mom was too.”
I let myself run my fingers over it again, just…investigating. Glad he hadn’t delved deeper into me, eager to learn more about him. “She still practice?”
He stiffened, just slightly.
“She’s been dead since I was twelve,” he said. “She and my dad. Car accident.”
I stilled.
Felt like an asshole.
“Oh Sawyer,” I whispered. “I’m so sorry.”
“It was a long time ago.” He shrugged one shoulder, but he was just staring up at the ceiling. “Uncle Adam and Aunt Peg took us in—my dad was Adam’s little brother. Forrest and his twin Emmett were ten…so it was harder on them.”
I pressed my palm flat against his chest, felt his heartbeat. It was perfectly steady…like he’d told this story a thousand times and had it rehearsed to the point where it didn’t hurt anymore.
“I shouldn’t have—” I paused. “I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have assumed?—”
He turned toward me with a slight smile, extending one arm to brush against my chest. “Daniela, it’s okay,” he said. “They’ve been gone twenty-three years. I’ve had a long time to grapple with it, and it isn’t like you had any way of knowing.”
My brow furrowed. “If I’d kept texting you, it may have come up.”
He turned onto his side now, tucking his hands under his pillow. We were so close, face to face, naked in his bed…
…I should just say something.
Stop being a coward.
I cleared my throat. “Okay…if I’m being honest, I didn’t text you because?—”
My phone rang.
