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Well, the whiteboard.
Cripes, the whiteboard. Every time I see that carefully reconstructed list, the letters neater than they were the first time, I think about what it might have been like if we hadn’t stopped.
Of course, I think about the physical part. Axel is areallygood kisser. But it’s more than just that. The part that gets to me, hurting a little more than it feels good when it sneaks into my head late at night, is imagining what comes after the passion and heat. Wondering if he would have pulled me against his chest and held me there until morning. If he would have told me he didn’t want to let me go… and I could have told him I didn’t want him to.
That’s the part I don’t like to think about. The part where I feel like I’m betraying myself on the deepest level.
Because Paris!
I’m not supposed to be fantasizing about a man who sees me as his son’s nanny before he sees me any other way asking me to change my plans. I want options. Experience. I want to grow.
IwantParis.
Fortunately, Axel isn’t any more interested in a relationship than I am, so I don’t need to worry about any of that stuff happening.
The tablet trills with an incoming video call, and my belly lights up with a different kind of flutter. I answer, expecting to see a familiar wide grin but let out a short shriek when I’m greeted, instead, with a closeup of Axel’s bare chest and abs. He’s got a towel wrapped around his hips, cinched so low— I shake my head and swallow.
Take a breath.
We’ve been here before. Just not quite this up close and personal.
I can actually see the spot where the terry tucks into itself is starting to give. My heart stutters to a stop as—
“Shit!” He grabs the towel at the last second, catching it.
And I need to get a hold of myself before I make this weird. I pull it together.
“Oh cripes, Axel. Warn a girl, will you?” I grin, covering my eyes with my hand but holding my fingers open so I can still see Axel as he steps back from the camera and walks through his Vegas hotel room.
“Sorry, our event ran long, and I wanted to grab a shower but didn’t want to be late calling.”
“You didn’t need to rush. You could have gotten dressed.”
“And miss this?” He waves a hand around his face, dropping his jaw and bugging his eyes before pointing to the screen with a smug smile.
I gasp, torn between outrage and horror… and the laughter that’s never far away when I’m talking to this man.
Laughter wins out and I sit back with an exaggerated sigh. “You’re the worst.”
“You’re the one peeling my towel off with your eyes.” Then before I can even argue, he switches gears. “How are the French lessons coming?”
And the conversation continues.
* * *
Nora
“What thehell?”
I look up from where I’m knitting a pair of baby booties for Otto’s Christmas present in the living room and glance over my shoulder to the hall Axel’s choked voice is emanating from.
“Everything okay?”
A second later, he rounds the corner, one arm outstretched as he points in the direction he just came from. “I was changing the bulb in the fixture over your bed, and when I turned around— Jesus, is thatthedead houseplant on top of your dresser?”
I cough, surprised that Axel remembers the dead houseplant I was trying to mourn the day Otto was born. The one I brought with me when I moved in and haven’t really considered how strange it might seem to someone else that I kept it.
“Stella? Yes.”
