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“No. I mean, yes.” I sigh. “I mean, I didn’t think you’d be disappointed this soon, that’s all. I figured it would take six months or so before it started to sink in that I’m broken and that this might take forever.”

“You’re not broken,” he says gruffly, taking my chin between two fingers, forcing me to look at him. “Luna, you’re perfect just the way you are. This stopped being about a baby the first time I made love to you.”

I stare into his sapphire eyes wondering how I got so lucky. Not just in finding him but in a guy who isn’t afraid to admit his feelings. We started this relationship backwards, beginning with the quest for a baby and then slowly building something real. And he keeps showing up.

Even on a night like tonight when I didn’t want him to see me at my worst.

It feels too soon to expose my own vulnerabilities, yet he never hesitates to show me his.

“I’m going to be hormonal and cranky for a few days,” I whisper when the silence stretches out. “Maybe longer.”

“I’m going to be cranky and hungry for a few weeks,” he counters. “So we’ll be even.”

“Hungry?” I ask in confusion.

He nods. “I’m training for a fight now, so no alcohol, no sugar, lots of food I don’t love.”

“Meanwhile, I may be eating everything that’s not nailed down.”

“You do what you have to for your mental and physical health, honey. Don’t worry about me. This isn’t my first time prepping for a fight. I’ll be fine.”

I curl back into his arms and close my eyes. “I’m sorry we can’t do anything tonight.”

I feel his sigh of exasperation. “You think that’s the only reason I came over? When you expressly asked me not to? I knew something was wrong, and I came because I care. This wasn’t a booty call.”

“I know but⁠—”

“There are no buts. I don’t know what I have to do to make you trust me. I’m in this for the long haul. I can’t see into the future, but I see you—beautiful and sweet and hard-working. Clawing your way out of the shit hand life dealt you and coming out the other side. Your fortitude is something to be proud of. And the way you deal with everything is remarkable. I think you’re remarkable.”

I truly don’t understand how I got so lucky.

This guy is the whole damn package. So far, I haven’t found a single fault, which should have been scary. Instead, it’s just making me fall harder. Faster. Completely.

“Let’s go to bed,” he says when I can’t come up with an appropriate response.

“Okay.” I’m about to climb off his lap when he does what he always does—stands up with me in his arms.

Like I weigh nothing.

He’s done it a dozen times or more at this point, and it never gets old.

I might have to consider keeping him around—permanently.

Chapter Twenty-Eight

Rage

True to my word, I get cranky over the next few days. I don’t care about alcohol or sugar. I’m not big on sweets anyway. They’re nothing but an occasional treat for me, but I do like food. Steak and baked potatoes with all the fixings. Bacon on anything I can possibly put it on. Even when I eat a salad—with sunflower seeds and other healthy items—I drown it in ranch dressing and add avocado and all kinds of shit to make it taste good.

Broiled fish and oil and vinegar don’t do shit for me.

Grilled veggies are boring as fuck.

And of course, now that I can’t have one, all I can think about is a double cheeseburger with BBQ sauce and bacon.

When I was fighting professionally, having to watch what I ate was just another part of the job. The paycheck. The lifestyle.

The problem is that it’s not my life anymore.