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“Not tired as such. Post orgasmic haze, I think,” I murmur.

“Do you want to sleep?”

I shake my head. I don’t think I ever want to sleep again.

I glance at my watch. It’s approaching three in the morning, but I don’t care. The day and night have been a roller-coaster, with dips and fears and extraordinary highs, but I’m not ready to see the end of it yet.

“I’m worried I’ll wake up and realise that this is all a dream.”

Joseph chuckles. “You’re not dreaming, sweetheart. I’m not either. My dreams are never as spectacular as this.”

“It has been spectacular,” I agree. Being back in Joseph’s bedroom, in his bed, on a night where he’s carried through his promises to take care of me, I have no complaints.

“So, if you’re not tired, do you want to talk?”

“You haven’t changed your mind already, have you?” I try to keep my expression neutral, but I’m sure he sees the worry on my face.

“No, of course not. I meant maybe we could use the time to ask questions, if we have any to ask,” he explains.

“Did you have sex with every woman who you were pictured with?” I blurt out. I tormented myself with those pictures, especially because most of them looked nothing like me.

“No, but I’ll admit that I wanted something to numb everything in me, and I chose women. I spent a lot of time trying to block out what happened and ignoring my broken heart. I’m not proud of it. I was always clear with them, though. I never said I was looking for a relationship, and I’m pretty sure half of the women weren’t looking for one with me either.”

“It wasn’t ever like this?” I ask. I’d gesture at our tangled limbs, the loving embrace, but I’m sure he knows what I mean. I’ve never felt the same with another man in bed as I do when I’m with Joseph.

“Never. I meant it when I said I’m only ever vulnerable with you. I’ve never cuddled up in bed with a woman other than you. I’ve never even invited a woman into my bed. Only you, Delilah,” he states, then clears his throat. “Was it ever like this for you with anybody else?”

I shake my head. I’ve only had two lovers since the last time he left, and although I knew the sex was nice, there was never this connection. I could never decide if it was because I was hiding my heart, or if I couldn’t give it because Joseph had taken it for himself and never returned it.

“Any other burning questions?” I ask.

“Who named Maddie?”

“Verity and Dad let me name her. Madeline means ‘high tower,’ and I wanted her to have a great future, build her a high tower so nothing could ever hurt her.”

“That was gracious of them,” he murmurs. He kisses my forehead.

“They were so wonderful when I was pregnant. Verity saved my life, I’m sure. She never pushed for anything. Everything was always my decision, but I knew they’d support me in any way necessary. She hadn’t wanted children herself, but she’s the most selfless woman I’ve ever known. She loves Maddie fiercely.”

“You too,” he says.

“Of course I love Maddie,” I reply.

“I meant Verity loves you fiercely.” He chuckles, like it could ever be something other than obvious truth how much I love Maddie.

“She’s a good woman.”

“What happened to your mother? Maddie told me she died.”

“Yeah…,” I start, and then I stop for a moment because my throat feels tight. It’s still unusual for me, that I feel any emotion for her death after she treated me so awfully in life.

“Felix said something about there being false police reports which had kept your father out of your life when you were younger.”

“Been asking a lot of questions?” I tease, feeling like it’s an easier response.

“Clearly you’re always under my skin and make me risk his ire,” he jokes.

“Yes, there were false police reports. As I understand it all now—from talking to various people and getting copies of files that relate to me—Mum had an affair when I was eight or so. Dad found out and wanted to throw her out of the house, and he wanted full custody of me. She decided to retaliate by saying he hit her through their marriage. It was a ‘him versus her’ situation, and when Dad and the guy she cheated with had a fight, the courts took it as evidence he was violent and favoured her, granting her full custody and a restraining order. I don’t remember being asked my opinion or my side of the story. Dad left, abided by the rules. He tried for custody when my mother was arrested for solicitation. I don’t remember her being arrested, but piecing it together, it was when I was about eleven. I remember nobody being home for a night, the first time I was by myself in the house. The courts still ruled in her favour, still held up the restraining order. He paid her maintenance, as demanded by the courts, money I never saw. When I got older and he was with Verity, she encouraged him to pay for things he could be sure my mother couldn’t take away. He’d have been a better father if he could. He was a better father to me when I was old enough for him not to worry about the repercussions from the courts—when my education was finished. He moved me in just after you left, before I realised I was pregnant.”