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Seb touched my hand.
I shut my eyes and smiled.
I turned my hand and interlocked my fingers with his.
“Off-season,” he whispered.
“Seb,” I said. “Are you trying to tempt me? Or yourself?”
“I’m just saying things out loud,” he said. “No reason for this to be…”
“Sad? Depressing? A wakeup call for us?” I looked at him.
His jaw tightened for a second. “Do you regret it all then, April?”
“Never. Not for a second. Total dream come true.”
“All those fantasies, huh?”
“Well, some of them. Not all.”
“Not all?” Seb asked. “How long have you… never mind.”
I caught myself slightly blushing.
“You know, it makes me feel uneasy, April,” he said. “You’ve been emotionally involved in this for years.”
“I know. I chose that. I would never expect the same for you.”
“I feel the same,” he said. “Just so you know. Just in a different way. I can’t say I’ve ever had fantasies. But I’ve thought about you. About me. I would catch myself sometimes wondering what it would be like if I ever saw you again and you were with someone else.”
“Why? To beat him up?”
“No,” Seb said. He took his eyes off the road to look at me. “I would feel bad for the guy knowing I’d steal you from him.”
That seemed like such a cocky, asshole thing to say.
Any other person in the world… if they said something like that to me, I would have slapped them. I would have punched them.
But this was Seb.
My Sebby.
The smirk on his face just before he looked at the road again told me exactly what he meant.
That he meant it. Because he was right.
I started to think about that scenario now.
Imagine finding someone you like. Someone who is smart, funny, charming, and sexy. A guy who has his life together and wants you to be a part of it. A guy who takes care of himself, and you. In life. In bed. He’s almost perfect. He’s ninety-nine percent perfect.
And you know that one percent is something he can never achieve or be.
Because he’s not Seb.
But that doesn’t matter.
Everyone carries some kind of baggage from previous loves.
