Page 45 of True Blue

I poke his side. “You’re a goof.”

“And you love it.”

“More than anything,” I breathe.

Teddy doesn’t say anything to that. His hands go to my cheeks, thumbs swiping on the skin there, and he just looks at me. His eyes trail over every centimeter of my face, like he’s marking it in memory, before he so softly kisses me.

“You are my dream girl, Indie,” he whispers, his voice gravelly. “I’m so damn lucky.”

“Thank you for…” I trail off, a mountain of things coming to mind, but what I land on is, “for being you.”

Teddy’s eyes melt.

“Whatever happens—whether it’s Michigan, Wisconsin, New Jersey, or the damn moon,” he grins at my laugh, before sobering, his expression so tender. “Where you go, I go.”

I close my eyes, pressing a kiss to his chest.

I had believed him when he said it the first time, the fifteenth time, the twentieth time, and when we toured that house in Cape May.

But to hear him swear it to me here, in his childhood bedroom after we’ve just made love, makes it feel real.

“Promise?” I whisper.

“Promise,” he says, holding out his pinky. I laugh and hook mine around it, and he bends to seal it with a kiss.

As soon as his lips touch mine⁠—

“Theodore!” Dawn calls, sounding close, and then her footsteps creak against the hardwood. “Are you up here?”

Our eyes widen, and we spring off the bed, tossing each other our clothes from the floor and pulling them on.

The door handle spins, but it holds—thankfully.

“Mom, I’m getting dressed!” Teddy yells, grabbing my sweater and rushing over to me. “Give me a minute!”

“Theodore James, why is the door locked?”

“Because I’m getting dressed! Jesus,” he repeats, helping me pull my sweater over my head and settling it.

As I tuck it back into my jeans, Teddy smooths his hands over my hair before giving me a once-over when I’m done. He nods and pecks my forehead before rushing to the door and unlocking it.

Dawn’s eyes are narrowed in suspicion when she sees me, and I glance down to make sure that my sweater is straight and my jeans are zipped up.

“I was just showing Indie my room.”

Dawn harrumphs skeptically. Her nose wrinkles in distaste as she looks at the rumpled covers on the bed, walking over and straightening them dutifully.

“Theodore, look what I found in the attic,” Dawn says then, showing him a couple of action figures on the dresser. She picks them up and wiggles them, “You used to love these things.”

Teddy grins. “I did, but you should have donated them⁠—”

“And give away your things!” Dawn gasps, looking horrified by the suggestion. “Absolutely not!”

“Mom, I’m not going to play with them. Some other kid could.”

“I just can’t, Theodore. It would make me too sad,” Dawn pouts. “You’re my last baby.”

“You donated Stephanie and Danielle’s things.”