Communion (On My Knees Duet 3)

I swear, I think his face loses some color.

I run my hand over his collarbone, pressing on the spot where I know I’ll feel a pulse. It’s fucking racing.

“Sky.” I hug him again. This time, I step back, pulling him with me, leaning my back against the wall because I’m feeling the hour and all this shock. “You wanted the baby last time?”

He kisses under my ear, whispers, “Maybe.”

"I had no idea. I think I'm slipping."

"What?" He tips his head back, showing me his scrunched brows and incredulous expression.

"Yeah, that's what I said." I kiss him on the bridge of his nose. "Feel like I'm missing the ESP vibes. Sky vibes. You didn't let on. You know how I know there were no clues from you? No hints that you were thinking you wanted to keep her?" He shakes his head, smiling so slightly it's almost like a small twitch of his lips. "Because I wanted the baby last time, too,” I murmur.

Luke’s eyes close. When he opens them, his face looks guilty. "I know." He blows out a long breath, shifting his weight so there's fractionally more space between us. "I could tell...that day."

I cup his cheek. "So not everyone is slipping. Some of us have upped our game."

"Not really." He grins. "You're just obvious."

"But was I?"

"Yes." He chuckles. "Missed your calling as an actor, Vance Rayne. Everything you feel is written all over your face. But I know you better than most. I could tell when we were doing the bottle in the nursery. But when Carrie came to take her and then they left, you looked like you felt it. I wasn't sure if you were bummed because of the baby being abandoned. Unclaimed." He lifts a brow, and I know he's referencing my dickhead father. "Or if you really connected with her."

"Why didn't you say something?" I ask.

He lifts a shoulder, looking solemn. "Truthfully?"

"I mean, if it doesn't put you out too much." I roll my eyes.

He smiles, but it's fleeting and forced. I can tell he's feeling heavy. "I didn't want you to feel overwhelmed."

"Overwhelmed? Like how?"

“By the church.”

“Overwhelmed in what way by it?”

"Like it's the size of a city? Both financially and square feet, number of people. And my job. I wanted there to be room for us. For you to feel like we could just...be normal people. People who don’t get babies addressed to them like Christmas gifts."

"But we can't be. Sky." I laugh. "We're not a normal couple. And I know that. I hitched a ride on your yacht—that’s how we met. You have a yacht. You're a public figure. Did you think I thought it might be normal?" How many times do we have to go over this?

His face hardens—irritation. "Yes, I did hope maybe it could be as normal as possible."

"What's possible is not normal. You can't help it, and that's fine because I couldn't care less. You think I picked you for the normal? You think I 'picked' you at all? Damn, dude. Is that how it felt for you, like ‘check yes or no’? Because for me it was a fucking avalanche that flattened me. I never got up again. And I never wanted to.

“All I want is what we have here. I just want a home to live in with you and a bed that's ours together. I want to lie down beside you at night and sometimes wake up and see you in the morning. Fuck you in the morning." My dick twitches, and I laugh. "Saying that gives me a semi, by the way." I reach out and shake his shoulder, mostly so I can feel the thickness of him, the solid warmth of my heart standing here on two feet looking intense and uncertain.

"I want to talk to you and see you every day, or almost. Hear what's up with you. Feel you come up behind me and hug me like you do sometimes. If you're sick, I wanna hold your hand, and if you're happy, I want to see that dazzling, Hollywood-looking smile. That's all I want. If you think I don't understand it's going to be a fucking zoo, then you're not really thinking. I see you, and I see what we've got here. Let me tell you something else. Something I've been keeping in because I'm nervous."

His eyes widen slightly. "Tell me."

"I uh...wouldn't mind helping out. Or whatnot. In whatever way you thought I could. Like…at Evermore."

"Helping, you mean officially?"

I shrug. "In some sort of way. Whatever you thought I was qualified for."

"What would you want to do?" His eyes are careful on my face; I'm pretty sure he's wearing his polite pastor expression.

"Just anything. To...you know...help, and be a part of it. The charity and helping people."

A big grin blooms on his face. "You want that?" He shuts the grin down. "You don't have to."