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“Messier? It doesn’t get messier than us. We were cheated out of everything. We were supposed to be together. We were supposed to have a life together, with kids, a house, the dog, the trees, the whole fucking deal.” His jaw clenches. “I’m not going to lie; I’m damn sure bitter about it.”
“What good is that going to do us? Life doesn’t wait for us to get ourselves together. It moves on, as it did with you and Bree.” There’s a sting of pain in that. He moved on, but I couldn’t. I’m not mad. I just wish I was the one he moved on with.
“Lace.” He shakes his head. “Our lives took a sharp, painful detour in different directions. There is no way on God’s green earth it’s a coincidence that after so many years with no contact, our sons—sons—end up in the same class, inseparable friends.”
A freaking amazing, life-altering coincidence? The best and worst.
“Say it’s a coincidence. I’ll turn the corner, drop you off at your house, open the door for you, wish you good night, and watch you close the door. I won’t bring it up again. I’ll go on living my life, going through the motions.” He bends his head, bringing us eye to eye. “Lace, do you believe it’s a coincidence we’ve been thrown back in each other’s lives, after everything and the feelings we had for each other remain, unchanged in time? I’ll honor whatever you say.”
I know he will. I’m not sure, but I’m not ready to lock away what this is. “It’s not a coincidence.”
“Good, because I want to get to know you all over again.” His dark eyes take on an intense glow, utterly focused on me, sincere and warm. “I know the girl. I want to know the woman. And her child.”
A tear slips out, and he wipes it away. I lean into his touch. “Yes.
“Yes?” His lips part in an uncertain smile.
“Yes, but what am I saying yes to? You’re still married.”
“On everything I am, I promise that Bree and I have been long over, way before you came back into my life. We haven’t been together physically for a year. We told Jackson today we were going our separate ways. I’m not pushing. I just want to get to know you; we’ll take it as slow as you want. Go out with me?”
“Our idea of slow is different,” I smile. “What would be fast?”
“You saying yes again.”
I want to play it safe. That’s what I do. I don’t take risks. I stick to the same routine, day in and day out. And what have I got to show for it? A safe life and a lot of loneliness, afraid of what people might see and find, and most of all, their judgment. All things out of my control.
I’ve been protecting Jacob and me for so long from that judgment that I didn’t notice how many of the little joys in life I was letting slip away. Like the joy of hanging out with an old friend and sharing memories, and laughing at those pure memories, which make us feel good. In the short time Landon has been back, I’ve laughed more than I can remember in a long time. It feels good. I see a change in Jacob; he was happy enough before, but now, with Jackson and Landon around, he’s learning to be more confident and less shy. They’re a good influence on him.
Shay would kill me if I admitted this out loud, but they give him something that we as McQueen women can’t. I guess every little boy needs that father figure to look up to. Who better than Landon? He’s a good man.
“Yes, I’ll go out with you. I don’t want to complicate things on your end, so I’ll go out with you as a friend.”
“Good. We’ll go out on a friendly dinner date, and I’ll pick you up.” He smiles, his thumb brushing across my cheek, my hand rubbing his arm. Just sitting, eyes focused on each other, pitched back in time when it was all so innocent and right. Nothing and no one could break our connection.
I remember those feelings of love and need. Of wanting him and only him so badly that every time I was with him, all I had to do was look at him, and he would reach out and touch me like this. One exquisite kiss, and I was his. One kiss. The only ones I’ve ever wanted. The one I want now, but I’m too afraid to ask for.
“Landon—” I don’t finish that sentence, because he gives me what I can’t ask for but I need, and my heart soars.
His thumb brushes across the center of my lips, gently stroking as he leans in with our hands locked against his heart. I willing open for him, and the sweet taste of him hits me at the first wet slide of his tongue over mine, sending a warming tingle of heat to all my senses.
I lean into the kiss, his hands framing my face, and my fingers slide over his shoulders, savoring every bit of this closeness, until I’m startled by a sound that I scarcely remember: my own rumbling moan. God. Too soon he pulls away, and he rests his forehead against mine.
“Is that okay?” he sweetly asks through a shaky breath, worry lacing his tone.
I laugh. “It was more than okay.” My memory didn’t hold up to what it was. It was better than it ever was.
“I know.” He gently rubs his forehead against mine. “This deserves to be asked in the proper way, with your full permission and consent.” He takes a deep breath, making me tense at that one word, consent. I swallow, waiting for his next words. “Will you please go out on a date with me and—for God’s sake don’t say no—can I kiss you again?”
A wide smile spreads across my face as I give the only answer I could have. “Don’t ask. You have my full permission to just do.”
And oh God, he does.
