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And sure, we had lost quite a bit. But we still had our whole lives to make up for it. And he was here with me now and that was all that mattered. With any luck, maybe we’d wind up pregnant sooner rather than later.
I let go of a small sigh, unable to rip my eyes off the incredible man before me. His hair had grown darker and darker as he’d aged. Less time in the sun, more time in his workshop. To be honest, I kind of loved the color.
We were both dressed casually tonight. I had a simple sundress on with sandals. And Jesse, well, he looked like he’d stepped off the pages of GQ. Then again, he’d humored me by letting me shop for him in the city yesterday. No way would he buy jeans with holes in them like the pair he was wearing now. And the look he’d given me when I insisted he try them on . . . well, priceless.
But holy hell, the look worked for him. I mean, fashion is my thing, so . . .
The gray long-sleeved shirt fit like a dream, showing off his hard chest and muscular arms. I’d let him keep his black Apple watch on, because a fancy watch was pushing my luck, but . . .
Jesse shoved a hand through his hair as he studied me, leaning against the fancy rental car. Before this weekend, I never would have pictured him behind the wheel of a Porsche 911. Now? Well, damn. The car suited him, too.
“What’s on your mind, darlin’?” He smiled as he offered me his hand and he drew me against him.
What was on my mind? A lot, apparently.
“This weekend has been incredible, don’t get me wrong,” I began as I draped my arms over his shoulders, “but why do I get the feeling you brought me here for more than just a weekend away in this big city?”
“We may be in LA for a secondary reason, but I promise you, I really did want to surprise you with those tickets and bring you someplace you’ve never been before. Plus, I’ve had to work a lot with Falcon the last few weeks, and we needed some alone time.”
Although he loved designing furniture, and he still did it as his “hobby”—a much better one than assassinating people—he now worked in private security to help save the world from bad guys. I was happy for him, even if his work was dangerous and had me a little on edge from time to time. I knew this man was meant to help people. It was who he was, and I wouldn’t ever want to change him.
“Sooo, what’s the secondary reason?” I prompted, wondering if my man would ever speak up, or if he’d just continue to stare at me like I was his whole world. Not that I’d complain about that. It was nice being his world when I’d spent most of my life feeling just on the outside of it. “Why’d you abruptly pull off the road in this spot?” I asked when he continued to pierce me with his broody gaze.
I mean, it was a great spot. But something told me we weren’t there for the view, even though I could make out the Hollywood sign off in the distance in the rolling hills.
“Well,” he said before dipping in to kiss me, “a little over three years ago I was driving down this very road, and you don’t need to know why I was here . . . you, um, really don’t want to know, so don’t ask . . . but it wasn’t for a good reason, and . . .” He kissed me again. “I have so many bad memories. So fucking many. I kind of want to replace some of them with good ones. Ones with you, if that makes sense?”
“I think it does,” I whispered between a few more soft kisses. If we didn’t stop ourselves, we’d end up making love against the Porsche in broad daylight alongside the road. We weren’t so great at keeping our hands off each other. Time to make up for and all.
“I just,” he started again, his brows drawing together, “wish that I sent you those letters I wrote all those years.”
I eased back to better focus on his eyes. “Letters?” What? “You wrote me? And more than once?” All this time I thought . . .
The side of his mouth hitched. “I wrote to you for half my life, Ella. The way Marcus wrote his brother letters but never sent them . . . yeah, like that.”
I blinked, pulled my arms from his shoulders, then backed up.
“Writing you helped me survive. Kept me from totally losing it. I knew I’d never send them, but . . .” His smile dissolved. “Say something. You look upset?”
“What?” I frowned. “No. I just . . . I wrote you, too. I mean, way more than just the one I sent with the photo.” I knew how much that photo meant to him, I mean, he’d said as much in his wedding vows, but . . .
He stepped forward and reached for my wrist, guiding me back into his arms. “You wrote letters you didn’t send, too? Really? Well, then why do you look so sad?”
“Just wondering what would have happened had we sent them.”
He kissed me before saying, “I think we’re right where we’re supposed to be. I’ll lose my mind if I do the ‘what if’ thing when it comes to you and us.”
“Mmm. You’re right. I don’t want to go down that road.” I smiled. “Especially when we’re alongside such a beautiful one now and I’m in your arms.” I wet my lips. “But can I read them? Tell me you saved them.”
His eyes fell closed. “Burnt every last one the night before you were supposed to marry that asshole.”
Oh. Brian. Right. “Well, hmmm. I guess I shouldn’t let you read mine, then.”
His hand slipped around my back and to my ass, and he squeezed. “Oh, I think you’ll be letting me read them when we get back home.”
“Mmmm. I might need a little convincing,” I teased, and before I knew it, he had my back to the Porsche, and he was pressed against me, letting me feel how hard he was.
“You want me, darlin’? Want me to convince you right here?” He playfully lifted his brows up and down twice.
