Page 181 of Wait for Him

"I'm not going anywhere, Mikey." I pull him down into a hug. "We'll do breakfast in the morning. But today was a big day for you and Blaire, so go kiss your pregnant wife and rub her feet and fetch her pickles and Hot Cheetos like the good husband you are."

He nods against my shoulder, and I feel the wetness hit my cheek before he can subtly wipe it away.

"I'm back, okay?"

I wasn't even sure I'd made that decision until the words came out of my mouth, but there it is. And once I hear it, I know it's true.

Yeah.

I'm coming home.

"I missed this more than I ever let myself admit, and I need my family. Besides, I have to be here for the first time you drop that baby, because you're going to need a very good lawyer."

He laughs and nods. "Okay." He pauses. "It's been a shitty fucking year without you, Rose. I want to hear about all of it. Whenever you're ready, I mean it. Please."

He shakes his head and pulls me into what has to be our hundredth hug of the night.

"I'm here for you. Whatever you need. And if you ever want to tell me everything you've been holding onto all these years..." He pulls back enough to look at me. "I'm a big boy now, you know?"

I stare up at him. "You're a big boy?"

He gives me a gentle shove and wipes his eyes. "Fuck off."

"Who's a big boy?" I poke his stomach.

"Get out."

"Michael's a big boyyyy," I sing-song, sauntering through the door he is now actively holding open for my eviction. "A big, big boy."

The door slams behind me, and I drop my head back and laugh at the ceiling of a hallway I've walked a thousand times. I'm halfway toward the elevator wearing the biggest smile I've had in longer than I can remember when his door opens again and I hear quick footsteps behind me.

"Just one more. Please."

I turn, and Michael pulls me into another long hug, his chin settling on top of my head while neither of us bothers pretending we're keeping track anymore.

"See you tomorrow?" he asks into my hair.

"Yeah. I'll see you tomorrow."

And for the first time in over a year, tomorrow is a promise I can make to him instead of something he has to hope for.

When I exit the elevator downstairs, I spot a figure sitting in the far corner of the lobby, and I know who it is before my eyes finish focusing.

Jackson looks up and stands, sliding his hands into his pockets.

God, he looks good.

He's put on weight in all the right places. His hair is longer now, wavy enough that I immediately want to put my hands in it, and his beard is thicker than I've ever seen it. Dark jeans. Coffee-colored V-neck stretched across that ridiculous chest. Cognac oxfords.

A year apart and the man somehow got hotter.

Rude.

I swallow the memories and remind myself of the facts. He is weeks away from marrying real estate tycoon Rian fucking Fields because I told him not to wait for me, and he’s just following instructions.

He was always a good boy for me like that.

“Hi."