Page 269 of Triplet Babies for my Ex's Best Friend

Always devastating when he’s honest.

I step closer. “Talk to me.”

His eyes lift to mine. “I don’t know how to feel.”

“That seems reasonable.”

“They spent four years telling me Megan made a mistake.” My throat tightens. “And now Bryce is in custody, and investigators are calling her brilliant and saying the system failed her and I…” His voice roughens. “Part of me is relieved, and part of me feels sick for not finding it sooner.”

“You weren’t supposed to solve her death alone.”

“I tried anyway.”

“I know.”

He laughs once without humor. “Control issues.”

“You’re very committed to them.”

“Yes.”

Silence stretches softly between us. “I thought loving someone again would feel like betrayal.” My breath catches. “But it doesn’t.”

My eyes sting immediately. “Ethan?—”

“It feels terrifying,” he says. “And reckless. And completely out of my control.” A faint smile touches his mouth. “Which I hate.” I laugh wetly. “But it doesn’t feel wrong.”

I melt completely. Because this man, this impossible, grieving, emotionally constipated silver fox. He’s trying so hard, and I love him so much it’s becoming unbearable to carry around silently.

I step closer until there’s almost no space left between us and place my hand against his chest slowly. His heartbeat is steady beneath my palm. “I love you.”

The words leave me before fear can stop them.

Ethan goes completely still. Like even breathing might break the moment. Then his hand slides gently against my waist. “Addy.”

I shake my head immediately because if he says something devastatingly emotional right now I might actually dissolve into soup.

“I know this is messy and insane and badly timed and technically started with airplane sex and trauma…”

His mouth curves helplessly.

“But somewhere between Oliver calling me Sunshine and you buying me orange juice and turning your penthouse into a prenatal command center…” My voice breaks slightly. “You became my home.”

Ethan’s eyes close briefly like the words physically hurt to hear, and for one terrifying second, I realize love has become hard for him over the last four years.

Then he looks at me again, and I realize it isn’t pain. It’s feeling. Full force, uncontrolled. “I love you too.”

The words hit me so hard I actually stop breathing for a second.

Then he kisses me.

It’s like a dam broke and every repressed, compartmentalized, locked-up thing inside him floods into me at once, hot and desperate.

His hands come up to my face, and he kisses me so hard I taste how much he needs this, and more indecently, how much he needs me.

I make some sound, part laugh, and part needy animal noise, and he groans against my mouth, while pushing me up against the wall in the hallway, his body pinning mine gently.

“You’re perfect,” he hisses.