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“Then, why are youcrying?”
“Hormones,” she croaks out. “Fuckinghormones.”
“You can blame it on that for now.” My mouth finds hers, giving her a long kiss, before pulling away and pecking the tip of her nose. “But I’ll be asking againlater.”
“What are you doing?” she asks when I move across the room and pick up abox.
“Helping you pack your shit. You can keep the apartment for as long as you want, but I’m going to take as much time with you under my roof as I canget.”
Chapter Forty-Two
Willow
Dallas and Hudsonare moving the few boxes I packed for my trial run atDallas’s.
I’m doingthis.
Really doingthis.
I stop on the porch before walking through the front door. I jumped down these stairs, barefoot, with tears running down my face. I stare at the door, remembering my last look of Dallas that day.Let’s hope history doesn’t repeatitself.
I haven’t been back in the house since Maven was sick. Maybe I should’ve taken a tour, made sure I was emotionally stable to handle more than three hourshere.
I’m going to walk in there, be strong, and do what’s right for myheart.
For my baby. Forus.
The excitement of spending more time with him and Maven is what keeps me walking. I love spending time with them. I’d go to bed, wishing Dallas were there to hold me, to kiss me, to share the moment when the babykicked.
Dallas is still a man who struggles, but that only makes me fall more in love with him. Lucy’s note sparked something inside me, an insight I never thought about when I shut myself down after considering a future with him. Dallas might be a little broken, but he knows what love is. He sacrifices for love, for his family—something Brett never did withme.
I’d rather have a broken man who knows how to love than a man with no scars who’s never loved anyone buthimself.
Dallas squeezes my elbow when I walk through the front door. “If you’re not cool with this, let me know, okay? I’ll call a realtor, and we can look for anotherproperty.”
I stare at him, unblinking. “Are you talking about buying a newhouse?”
He practically built this house with his own two hands. He loves thishome.
“If that’s what makes you comfortable.” He slides in closer and gently pushes a fallen strand of hair from my ponytail out of my eyes. His hands then rest on my hips. “This is your home now, do you hear me?Ourhome. I want you to be able to relax, to be able to touch me, to feel okay with having sex with me here.” He chuckles. “Because we know that’s going to be happening a lot as soon as our little one isborn.”
I smile. “You have no idea how much I’ve missed that.” Especially with him. It’s hard to go from having sex with fuck boys to Dallas and then being told you’re on bed rest and that you need to refrain from sex. It’s like tasting an expensive cupcake for the first time after years of eating cheap candy, and then it gets taken away fromyou.
His hand moves down to brush between my legs. “I might not be able to fuck you yet, but I promise I’ll do something for youtonight.”
I rest my hand on his chest. “I have something to look forwardto.”
“You most certainlydo.”
“All right, kids, take it to the bedroom,” Hudson says, walking in. “And, speaking of bedroom, is that where you want me to put thisstuff?”
I take my time while Dallas waits for an answer. “Yeah,” I stutter out. “Sure.”
I follow them down the hallway and into the bedroom, not sure if I’m truly ready for this. I take in a heavy breath and wait for the blow of bad memories and heartache to hit me, but nothing does when I walkin.
The furniture and bedding is new. I try not to make it too obvious that I’m searching for the signs of Lucy I saw last time I was in here, but they are now missing. The perfume bottle, the pictures, the clothes—it’s allgone.
Hudson sets the box down on the floor and leaves theroom.
