When he’s right in front of me, head tilted back and staring at me with his beautiful mismatched eyes, I open my mouth, and the only words I can think to say spill out. “Baby boy.”
His chin quivers, and that’s nearly the end of me.
Tensing his jaw as if he’s trying to stop it, he breathes in deeply. I want to reach for him and pull him into my arms. I want to inhale his scent and feel the warmth of his body against mine. I want it so much that my fingers are flexing at my sides, barely contained, my self-control fraying the longer we stare at each other.
“I’m in love with you too,” he breathes.
Fuck.That’s all I can take. I hook an arm around his waist and draw him to me, slamming my mouth down on his. A woundedsound echoes in my throat when he kisses me back immediately, fingers tangling in my hair as he tugs on it.
It’s everything.He’severything. My heart. My Arlo. My baby boy.
His hands leave my hair and settle on my chest. My heart jumps into my throat as my stomach swoops, only to lurch and tumble when I realize he’s pushing me away and not pulling me closer.
I nearly stumble backward with the force of the realization. “What did you push me away for?”
His chest heaves as he stares at me. “I need to talk to you about something.”
Just the words every man wants to hear. I sigh. “Come in.”
Arlo follows me inside, closing the door behind him and kicking his shoes off like he’s done a hundred times.
This time, there are no clothes flying, no playful teasing. Just Arlo’s tense body as he walks stiffly across my living room and sits down on the couch.
I sit down beside him, keeping a space between us that I don’t actually want.
His throat bobs heavily as he swallows over and over, almost compulsively. If I didn’t know better, I’d almost think he was going to get sick. “Arlo?” I reach for him but drop my hand before it can connect. “Are you okay?”
He nods, squeezing his eyes closed. “I—”
Not knowing what he’s gonna say has a lead weight sitting in my stomach. I hate this. Hate, hate, fucking hate. “Talk to me, baby boy.”
Opening his eyes, he locks his gaze on mine. “Remember how you told me you don’t want kids?”
I hesitate, then nod. “Yes. But I didn’t say it quite like that. I said I never saw them in my future.”
Arlo sighs, slumping against the couch and covering his eyes with his hands. My chest aches. I want him in my arms. This is killing me.
“I’m not an only child.”
The words give me pause. “Okay. I didn’t know that.”
Would I be considered an only child now? Is that what happens when you lose your sibling? Do you become an only child?
“Salem and Nora,” Arlo continues. “Salem is fifteen, and Nora is ten.”
I nod, trying to keep up. “Why haven’t you mentioned them before?”
He shrugs. “Dunno, really. Seems dumb now that I think about it.”
“You’re not dumb, Arlo.”
Grimacing, he shakes his head. “What do you want from me? Like our relationship?”
I inhale a deep breath. This might be my only chance to tell him. “Marriage.” His eyes dart to mine. “Early morning cuddles and late-night sex and showering together. I want to hold your hand in public.” Once the words start flowing, I can’t stop them. “I want the next fifty years if I’ve got that long. Game nights where we host for our friends. I want to help all your dreams come true, and I want to give you everything you want and need. I want to love you from now until the end of time. I want everything, Arlo.Everything.”
He watches me for a second. “And if I told you I was a package deal? That even though your future plans don’t involve kids, I come with two?”
Before I have a chance to answer him, he’s rushing on, his words coming out faster and faster. “Salem and Nora are in foster care, and I’m fighting to get them. They need me and I—”He shakes his head. “I need them. I have a home visit next week with their caseworker.”
