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Home. That word just made me think of Venice Beach. We should be putting an offer in right now. We should be sitting with Dom at her office, biting our knuckles with excitement as we waited for the owner to tell us it was ours. I should be looking at Maeve’s Pinterest boards with a glow in my heart, feeling like I’d finally made it because I was able to buy my Queen whatever she wanted. We should be doing all those things.
All at once, I realized these things might never happen. All at once, we’d never make love under Mungo Ward’s sanctuary beams, and I’d never serenade Maeve in the ADU. Because even if I survived this shit, that dream was long gone. The house wouldn’t be there a week from now, let alone a year.
Maeve’s fingers kneaded into my muscles; they resisted with the might of despair. I tried to relax. I really did. I didn’t want her to know I was angry. I didn’t want her to know I was worried. And I definitely didn’t want her to know that I wasn’t certain I’d survive this.
Bearing down with her weight, her hands continued trying hard to untie the knots. She was everything right now. And I tried to accept it. I tried to accept that maybe sometimes, I would need her, too. Because whether I wanted to be chivalrous or not, whether I wanted to be the invincible Roman solider, the caveman, the knight in shining armor… no man could go a lifetime with a woman without needing her back.
As I sent this acknowledgement through my body, her hands were able to move more deeply into my skin. I allowed her inside me. Maybe I’d started to fall asleep, maybe the toxin release was messing with my head, but for a few moments, I couldn’t tell the different between her skin and mine. For a moment, I even accepted that facing death was worth feeling this connected to Maeve.
Finally, her hands slowed, and she no longer knuckled down but slid her fingertips along my skin, then her nails until finally she lay down beside me and wrapped her arm around my back. “Was that nice, babe?”
“More than you could ever know,” I said, my eyes still closed.
She caressed my back lightly, arousing me ever so slightly but not enough to pick my head up. Not yet. I wanted to be intertwined with this woman in my dreamland for just a bit longer.
Sadly, she snapped me out of it much faster than she’d lulled me into it.
“Drake?”
“Mmm?”
“I think we should try to contact your dad.”
I let out a low, long groan. “Noooo. Now why did you have to go and say that?” I pushed myself up to sitting against the headboard.
She shuffled up next to me. “Sorry. I ruined it.”
My instinct was to say yeah, she sort of had, but a look on her face I’d only ever seen before on my mom stopped me. Raised eyebrows. The corners of her eyes were downturned.
Shit. I knew we were going to have this talk. I just hadn’t wanted it tonight.
“Guess I won’t get that happy ending?” I asked.
“Which happy ending are you referring to?” I knew she’d meant to throw me some of that Maeve sass. But when she finished her clever little double entendre, she gazed down at her hands, her body crumbled into them.
Her defeated posture cooled the heat in my belly. Just a little. “Can we just talk about this tomorrow?”
Her gaze met mine. That look was still there. The sad, worried, womanly guilt look. Damn. It must be something all women could do. Melt a guy with that look. But I stood my ground. “Seriously, let’s talk about it tomorrow.”
“I wanted to, babe. I really did. But,” she squeezed her eyes together, fighting the urge to say what she ended up saying anyway, “time is of the essence. How many tomorrows do we have to wait to talk?”
“I only asked for one.”
“I know you, Drake. I can already feel a ‘no’ coming on.”
“I just asked to talk tomorrow. I just got out of the hospital, Maeve. I started some meds that could actually work. I just want to have one night where I take it all in. I’m trying find that sliver of optimism.”
“But it’s not there. There is no optimism. I felt it. I felt it inside you when I touched you just now.” She took my hand. “You’re not okay. And that’s fine. I’m not okay, too. I just think we’ll feel better if we take action. You know. Have a plan.”
I leaned my head back against the headboard and closed my eyes. “Let me guess. Your plan entails contacting my father, him actually being alive and willing, getting tested, and being a perfect match.” I opened my eyes. “Did I leave anything out?”
“Stop being sarcastic.”
“Stop being unrealistic.”
“One percent chance is actually pretty good. I’d play the fucking lottery for that, let alone my life. You’re talking like you don’t want to contact him.”
“That’s because I don’t.”
Her concern melted away like dripping candle wax and hardened just as fast. “I can’t believe that. All that we have to gain? To lose? It’s not worth just… just… at least trying?”
