Only One Regret (Only One 5)

"Why don’t we talk about it?" he says, and I chuckle.

"The last time you said that, you pushed my shirt up and ate me on the couch," I remind him.

"You were sitting in front of me with a white shirt on and no bra. And your nipples were teasing me." I side-eye him. "And it was a tight shirt."

"And you dragging my legs off the couch and burying your head between my legs?" I ask.

"That was you again, opening your legs while sitting on the couch," he declares, and I can’t help but laugh.

"Do you think this moving in with you is a little bit too fast?" I ask, turning in his arms. "We just started dating."

"We’ve been living with each other for over a month," he reminds me, and I tilt my head.

"We were on vacation for two weeks." I laugh. "Things don’t count when you’re on vacation because everyone is happy."

"Okay, fine. But I want to know that you’ll be there when I come home." He looks down. "I want to go to bed knowing that you will be going to bed with me." His eyes find mine. "Is it the house you don’t like? Do you want me to move in here?" He shrugs. "I don’t have a problem with that. I don’t care where we live as long as it’s together. Are you okay with making two rooms for the girls?" I smile at him. "I’m sure they’ll be okay if they can move all their stuff here."

"Why are you so amazing?" I ask, rolling my eyes. "It’s your most annoying quality."

He laughs. "It’s just stuff," he relays. "It’s all just material stuff. What matters is that you and the girls are there. None of the rest means anything to me."

"What if we get on each other’s nerves?"

"What if we don’t?" he asks, and I roll my eyes.

"Living together doesn’t mean you’re going to prison. It means that we share a home. We share a bed and our lives. I’m not expecting to be handcuffed to you."

I laugh. "That might be fun." I lean over and kiss his lips.

"Can we do a trial run?" I ask, and he smirks.

"We can call it whatever you want to call it," he confirms. "We can call it a vacation if you want. As long as you are there when I go to bed and wake up, I don’t care what label you put on it." He pulls me to him, folding his legs around me. "So what do you say, Erika? Want to vacation with me?"

I put my hand up to his cheek, his scruff on his face pricking my fingertips, but I love it. "Okay." I kiss him. "Let’s vacation together at your house."

It takes us six hours to pack up most of my clothes, and that included an hour when he buried his face between my legs. It takes his SUV and my SUV to transport all the hanging clothes, and when I walk into his closet that night, I see him standing there looking around. He is dressed in boxers, and that is it.

"Change your mind?" I ask, leaning against the doorway. My hair is piled on top of my head after getting out of the shower. He looks over at me and smirks.

"Nope." I walk to him and wrap my arms around his waist. "I don’t think I’ve ever been this happy to share a closet with someone." He puts his arm around me, and I look down to see the towel he had around his waist on the floor.

"Well, if you leave wet towels on the floor …" I joke with him, not even caring, and he knows it. "When are you going to tell the girls?"

"When they get here tomorrow," he says. "I’m going to tell Julianne." I nod. "Then the girls." My heart speeds up because, at the end of the day, his main commitment is to his kids. And I love him more for it. "Can you relax?" he asks, and I look up at him. "You’ve been here pretty much the whole month, and they haven’t even said anything."

"Me being here when they wake up is one thing," I share, walking over and picking up the towel. "My stuff being everywhere is another thing."

"Are you going to change and treat the girls differently?" he asks, and I gasp. "Exactly. So as long as nothing changes, it’s going to be fine."

"You’re being annoying," I accuse, rolling my eyes at him.

The next day, I get home from work, and I already have shaky hands. The sounds of my gold sandals click on the pathway as I look down at my outfit one last time before stepping in. This morning, I chose the pink pencil skirt with white flowers that Mia loves and a long-sleeve, sheer, high-collared silk shirt that Emma loves. I open the door and it all feels strange as I walk into the house putting my purse on the stairs and then walking into the house. "Hello?" I call out to them. I find them in the kitchen.