My Heart

“That’s just the thing,” he growls. “You are the only person who exists when I look at you. Nothing else matters. The rest of the world drifts away. It’s just me and you, Tamia. That’s what’s going to make tonight so difficult.”

I nod, tremors reverberating through me. Every one of his words hits me with the certainty of truth.

“I’m not pretending,” I say a moment later. “When I’m sassy – if that’s the right word – I’m just saying stuff I normally think but never had the guts to say. I know that must sound strange. Guts. Like we’re talking about war.”

“Everybody’s got their demons. Some people are scared of heights. Others are scared of embarrassment.”

“That’s me, right there,” I say. “Lisa would always tell me I shouldn’t care so much what other people think, but I’ve always found that so difficult. It’s not like there’s a switch I can flip, to stop myself from obsessing so much. But with you, it’s like I don’t have to. I can just be me.”

“That’s because you can. Always.”

He reaches over and places his hand on my leg. He doesn’t do it in a sexual way. It’s more like he’s trying to be intimate. But a second later his touch gets firmer, as though the force within him is as strong as mine, as though they’re trying to join.

We’re trying to join.

He lets go.

“Have you eaten yet?” he asks.

I shake my head.

“Want to grab some Chinese on the way home?”

“Sure, that sounds nice.”

The word home sends a warm sensation coursing through me, telling me we can have that. We can have a home, a family, a future.

We can have everything we’ve ever dreamed of.

We don’t have to live the rest of our lives wondering what if, never knowing if we’re going to be truly happy, never knowing if we’re going to find our one and only.

Just not tonight.

Tonight, we have to act like we’re friends, nothing more.

CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE

Triston

“Maybe we should build a fort,” Tamia jokes as she sits on the other side of the couch.

We agreed on this during dinner, as we ate our Chinese takeout in the garden seating area. We’d sit on opposite sides of the couch, keeping space between us. I didn’t trust myself not to launch into action the second we touched.

It doesn’t help that she’s changed into sweatpants, the loose fabric somehow finding a way to show off those thick mouthwatering thighs. She’s wearing a tank top, luckily with a bra, but it still shows the shape of those tempting breasts.

My cock gives a jerk, the helm aching, the same way it has been ever since I picked her up.

“I’m genuinely considering taking you up on that offer,” I say, trying for a grin. “You don’t know how sexy you look right now.”

She laughs, causing her breasts to jiggle seductively.

Waving a hand, she says, “You mean in these rags? These are literally the ugliest clothes I own.”

“Then it’s just you. Anything you wear drives me insane.”

I turn to the TV and pick up the remote, navigating to Netflix. “What are you in the mood for? And don’t say Netflix and chill.”

She laughs in the most adorable way. Like she can’t help it. It makes me think of all the laughter we’ll share once we become parents together, when our children do something amazing or life-affirming or goofy. It makes me think of her laughing at our wedding reception with her head thrown back, the photographer capturing her just like that.

“What’s so funny, eh?” I smirk. “You didn’t expect an old man like me to know the phrase?”

“You are not an old man,” she says, mock glaring at me. “It’s not that. It’s just… how freaking surreal is this, Triston? I’m, well, here. I’m with the father of the woman who has Lisa’s heart – even just saying that it’s like a tongue twister. I guess hearing Netflix and chill was just the cherry on top of the crazy sundae.”

“I know exactly what you mean,” I say. “All of this is batshit. But I wouldn’t change it, though, any of it.”

“Any of it?”

I chuckle. “All right, fair enough. There’s one thing I’d change.”

She doesn’t need me to tell her what. If I could, I’d make it so she wasn’t Alexis’s friend. But I want them to be friends. I’ve seen how happy Tamia makes Alexis, and how happy my daughter makes my future wife.

So really what I’d change is Alexis’s reaction. I’d make it so she’s happy for us, supportive, whereas in reality, she’s probably going to scream.

“Triston?”

I hand Tamia the remote, our fingers brushing. A spark snakes up my arm, telling me to squeeze down on her wrist and guide her hand to my...

She senses it too. I can hear it in the breaths she draws in, high-pitched and full of desire.