Page 117 of Sweet Redemption

Why does it sound so easy coming from her?

And as if I’m having an actual conversation with myself, I can also hear my answer. Not sure what that says about me. But at least I know the answer. It sounds easy because it is easy. I’m making it hard. I’m protecting my heart, and okay, that might not be a bad thing, but at some point, I’ve got to decide whether the risk outweighs the reward. The thing is, I already know the answer.

Serena

You looked great out there tonight, Superman.

It takes over an hour for Hendrix to read the message, according to the read receipt, and the dots appear in the next second.

Hendrix

Can I see you tonight?

Serena

I can’t drive. I had a few glasses of wine with the girls while we watched the game.

Hendrix

Can I come to you? I don’t want to wait until tomorrow.

Serena

I’d like that.

Hendrix

I should be there in about an hour and a half, princess.

Serena

Be safe.

Hendrix

Always.

I spend the next hour reading on the couch with Kevin at my feet. But if anyone were to ask me what I read, I’d basically be screwed because I can’t focus on anything but the conversation I’m about to have and the way it’s making my stomach churn.

Probably should have stopped after one glass of red wine.

Tires on the gravel driveway alert me to Hendrix’s presence before he’s out of his car, and I have the door open by the time he gets up the stairs.

“You look so pretty in my shirts, princess.” He grins as I throw my arms around his shoulders, and his hands go right to my ass, lifting me in his arms.

“I’ve missed you,” I whisper and cup his face with both hands as I wrap my legs around his waist. “I don’t want anymore space.”

He kicks my door closed and stops in the foyer. “Where to, Serena?”

“Top of the stairs. Third door on the left,” I tell him, smiling. “But we have to be quiet. Aurora and Saylor moved in today.”

“What?” He stops halfway up the stairs. “Like moved in? Permanently?”

“Sort of. It’s a long story,” I say, clinging to him, then nod to my room and smile when he steps inside and kicks that door shut too. “You can put me down now, Hendrix.”

Instead of letting go, Hendrix sits down on the bed with me in his lap like some kind of glorified spider monkey. And I’ve got to say, I’m not complaining, not after spending too many days without him.

“Serena,” Hendrix says at the same time I utter his name.