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“No, I’m not.”
“Say it then.”
“Of course, I like you, you ass. You’re easy to like and more than I could dream of. And it wasn’t the NFL jersey or the money. It’s your easy charm and the raw honesty in who you are. It’s owning your faults and quirks as well as your strengths. It’s the smile that I’d swear too few have seen. You’re playful and protective. And that’s not counting your prowess in bed… owning my body, playing me like an instrument for my pleasure and for yours.”
His face goes serious.
“And that’s not your family who loves you more than most experience in a lifetime. Knowing your brother begged for help for you. That your sister is going to fetch prescriptions for me and my dog. Not for me, mind you, but because she loves you, and you would do it if you could. It’s buying me tea just because I like it. It’s your dad knowing that and reminding you because he wants your friend to have what she wants.”
“You are not my friend.”
“Sorry. Your PT, then.”
“You’re not that either.”
“Then what am I to you, Layton? Your former coworker? Tell me so I don’t piss you off when I speak.” My voice is rising. I’m over this.
He slides closer, moving from my ankle to my waist, running his palm up the outside of my leg until it sits just below my breast.
“You are the woman who, after one dance, I wanted more than I’ve ever wanted anyone. You are the woman who challenges me mentally and physically and goes toe-to-toe with me, completely unafraid. You stand more than a foot shorter, yet you loom large in my eyes. You’re the woman I want to protect and cherish and fuck and lick and touch. You’re the only woman in my life I’ve ever wondered about what you’d look like full with my babies.”
My heart plummets.
“You are the woman who, after one night, I knew I’d chase to get to a second. After the second, I knew I’d chase for a fiftieth and who, showing up here yesterday, risked it all. For me. For me, you did that. No one does that for me. You don’t want my money or prestige or the fame that goes with being by my side. You want to be there because that’s where you belong, Livy.”
“I can’t have babies, Layton.”
And like a record screeching as the needle scrapes across the vinyl, the world implodes.
* * *
Layton
“Why?”
She hesitates. As if, all of a sudden, she needs to be cautious.
“It’s out there now, baby. You might as well go for the gold and give me the good, the bad, and the ugly.”
“I have endometriosis. It’s bad. I have a specialist in Atlanta I work with. She and I do what we can to manage the pain. But the statistical chance of me carrying babies is closer to impossible than improbable.”
I slide my hand to her stomach. It spans the whole width of her flat belly. “Okay, then. Will you tell me more sometime?”
She nods.
“Tell me a secret, Pix.”
She looks away before returning her eyes to mine. “The last time I told a man that, he broke off our engagement.”
My nostrils flare.
“There’s a downside to not being in the Mafia. I swear, if this were a movie, I’d have him whacked. But slowly and painfully. The slow part for what he did to you. The painful part for what he’s doing to me right now.”
“That may be the most romantic thing anyone has ever said to anyone in the history of the world, Layton Ranger.”
I drop my lips to hers and seal this moment. “I don’t know how to do this, Pix. Never had someone who was mine. Never wanted anyone to be mine. I’m pretty sure I’m going to fuck up. I’m counting on you to call me on it so I don’t lose you by being me.”
She lifts a crooked pinky to me. I loop mine with hers. “I made you say ‘ass.’ That’s twice I’ve made you swear.”
