Page 83 of Waiting for You

"I was terrified that if I let you back in, you'd bolt the second things got hard again."

She shook her head against the pillow. "I won't. I'm never leaving you again." She shifted onto her side and pressed her hand over my heart. "I love you. I can't even explain what you mean to me. I tried to amputate you from my life for years, and it was impossible."

I pulled her close and kissed her, slow and deep.

Then she rolled over, presenting her back to me.

I couldn't suppress a smile. She'd always done this. She hated being coddled when she was trying to sleep. She'd cocoon herself in the sheets facing the wall and leave me to face the opposite direction, two people sharing a bed but keeping their own space. It had always been enough.

I watched her yank the duvet up to her chin.

God, I'd missed this. The explosive moments, sure, but even more than that, this mundane reality. The small noises she made while settling in. Watching her find comfort gave me a peace I hadn't felt in eight years.

On pure impulse, I slid across the mattress and pressed myself against her back.

"Please," she mumbled into her pillow. "Back off. I need sleep."

I didn't budge.

"Xavier."

I wrapped my arm around her waist, buried my face in her tangled hair, and let out a quiet laugh. I was so happy my chest ached with it.

TWENTY-ONE

SLOANE

I woke up in his bed and couldn't remember the last time I'd slept without dreaming.

The room was bright and the sheets smelled like him. I lay still, taking note of the unfamiliar ceiling, the weight of his arm draped across my waist, and the steady rhythm of his breathing behind me. His palm was warm against my belly, and I smiled, pressing my hand on his.

Xavier stirred, pulling me closer as he buried his face against the back of my neck.

"Morning," he murmured into my hair.

"Morning."

We stayed tangled together for a stretch of quiet that belonged entirely to us. I listened to his heartbeat against my back, trying to keep my breathing steady.

Eventually I rolled over and faced him. His dark eyes were soft and half-lidded, an unguarded expression I'd forgotten he was capable of. His hair was a mess, and there was a crease on his cheek from the pillow. This version of him only existed in the early morning, before the surgeon's composure slid back into place—something I hadn’t seen in years.

"I need to say something," I said, drawing a deep breath.

"You've been holding it since you woke up. I can tell because you haven't insulted me yet."

"I'm being serious."

He shifted onto his back, looked at the ceiling before facing me. "Okay. I'm listening."

I sat up and pulled the sheet around my shoulders.

I needed to be upright for this.

"I was selfish," I started. "In Hawaii. At the wedding. All of it."

He opened his mouth.

"Let me get through this. Please," I cut him off, biting my bottom lip.