God, you’re an idiot.
There he was, sleeping like he belonged there, like he hadn’t just turned my entire world upside down. Seventy-two years old with gray in his beard and lines around his eyes that deepened when he smiled that cocky, knowing smile that had been my undoing.
And I’d fallen for it. Just like I’d fallen for Harold’s charm, his intensity, the way he made me feel like the only woman in the room. Just like I’d ignored every red flag, every warning sign, every rational thought screaming at me to keep my distance.
You never learn, do you, Trudy?
This was exactly what I’d sworn I wouldn’t do again. Jump in with both feet. Let attraction override common sense. Convince myself that this time would be different, thathewould bedifferent. That a man like Stephen Hartley would somehow be the exception to every mistake I’d ever made.
But no. Here I was, naked in my own bed, having just given him access to places I’d kept locked away for years, and already spiraling into the same pattern of self-sabotage and denial.
You’re predictable. You’re foolish. You’re exactly the kind of woman who deserves to get her heart broken.
The worst part? I knew it. I could see it happening in real time and I couldn’t stop it.
And yet.
And yet.
There were moments that reminded me of Terry. The way Stephen had wrapped his arm around my waist at the bakery when Harold and Edith walked in, claiming me without hesitation.“We’re together,”he’d said, so casually, so confidently, saving me from the humiliation of admitting I’d be attending their anniversary party alone, if I attended at all. Terry would have done that. Terryhaddone things like that—quiet acts of protection that made me feel safe.
But what I felt for Stephen wasn’t quiet.
It wasn’t safe.
It burned.
Terry had loved me steadily, reliably, for decades. He’d been my partner, my companion, the man who held my hand through raising Judith and building a life together. I’d loved him. I had. But it had been... comfortable. Peaceful. The kind of love that settled into your bones like warm tea on a cold morning.
What I felt for Stephen was raw whiskey.
It burned its way through me, left my throat raw and my chest on fire. It made me feel alive in a way that was almost painful and impossible to ignore. The kind of heat that demanded everything, that wouldn’t let you hide or pretend or settle for less than surrender.
And the guilt was eating me alive.
Because I’d never felt this way about Terry. Not once in all our years together. I’d never ached for him the way I ached for Stephen. Never felt my pulse race when he walked into a room. Never wanted to crawl out of my own skin just to get closer to him.
What kind of woman does that make you, Trudy? What kind of wife were you if you can feel more for a man you’ve known six months than you felt for your husband of twenty-four years?
Terry had deserved better than that. He’d deserved a wife who burned for him the way I burned for Stephen. And instead, he’d gotten... me. Steady, practical Trudy who’d loved him in the only way she knew how.
But it hadn’t beenthis.
It had never been this.
Stephen shifted beside me, his arm tightening around my waist, and I froze. His eyes opened slowly, focusing on my face. Before I could prepare myself, before I could build my walls back up, he leaned in and kissed me.
It wasn’t gentle. It wasn’t a good morning kiss or a show of casual affection. It was hungry and deliberate, his hand coming up to cup the back of my head, pulling me closer as his mouth claimed mine with an intensity that stole my breath.
My hands found his chest without my permission, fingers splaying against warm skin and hard muscle. I wanted to push him away. Desperate to maintain some semblance of control, of distance, of self-preservation.
Instead, I pulled him closer.
The kiss deepened, his tongue sliding against mine, and I felt that familiar heat ignite low in my belly. This was what I’d been spiraling about, this inability to resist him, this feeling of being consumed by something so much bigger than myself.
When he finally pulled back, his forehead rested against mine, both of us breathing hard. His eyes were dark, satisfied, and when that familiar grin spread across his lips, I felt my heart clench.
“Morning, darlin’.”
