They’re beautifully intricate designs that I knew told a story. I just didn’t know what that story was until now.
“They’re both gone,” he says softly as he takes a seat next to me.
My gaze falls to his muscular legs, visible since he’s only wearing a pair of white boxer briefs.
“You’ve had a lot of loss in your life.”
He takes a deep breath. “I have, but more love than loss. I used to think that wasn’t a fair way to balance the scales, but I think it is.”
I can’t speak to loss because mine have been few and far between.
“My Pop got married for the third time to a woman named April,” he goes on, “April is everything he needs. She’s a spitfire, beautiful, kind, and makes him laugh. Jesus, the way he laughs with her makes my heart sing.”
I listen to every word, stuck on how joyful he is despite everything.
“She’s ill but hanging in there.” He sighs. “My Pop isn’t going to get that forever he’s been planning on with her, but he’s happy-as-hell that he found her and that she’s his wife right now.”
“Your Pop sounds amazing.”
“He is,” he acknowledges with a curt nod of his chin. “You’ll see that for yourself when you meet him.”
My heart thunders inside my chest because that’s another proposed meeting of the parents.
“Luke,” I begin as I bundle the blanket tighter around my shoulders. “Meeting the parents feels like a big step.”
“It is,” he agrees. “You’re important to me, Afton. I want my Pop to know you.”
“I want my parents to know you too.”
It’s not a lie. I know they’ll have a few choice words for me when they realize I’m involved with the stranger who busted into my wedding ceremony, but fate dealt that hand, and I’m grateful for that.
“Look,” he starts as he taps my knee. “I’m no expert on relationships, but I need you to know that I’m not interested in anyone else. I know we said we would keep this lighthearted and fun. I want that, but I want you to understand that I don’t sleep with more than one woman at a time.”
It doesn’t clarify exactly what we are, but I’ll take it.
“I’m not sleeping with anyone else either.”
“Good.” He leans forward to brush his lips over my forehead. “I want you all to myself, Afton.”
“I’m yours,” I whisper, wishing those words meant as much to him as they do to me.
Chapter 40
Luke
I fumbled my way through declaring my hard like for Afton like a fool.
I wanted to tell her that my feelings have jumped from like to more…I’m not at the love stage yet, but I’m knocking on that door.
My heart is hers.
In my failed attempt to tell her that, I at least made it clear that I don’t want to fuck anyone else.
Thank Christ she’s on the same page because the thought of another man’s hands on her body shreds me from the inside out.
I’m due at work in an hour, so I had to kiss Afton goodbye, even though it was the last thing I wanted.
I’m at Calvetti’s now, dressed for the firehouse and looking to score something to eat because Lorenzo, a firefighting rookie, is pulling kitchen duty tonight, and he has no clue what he’s doing.
It’s a right of initiation meant to make him uncomfortable, yet it’s hardest on the rest of us.
No one wants to eat a half-cooked chicken leg or under-seasoned potatoes, but that was what was on the menu during my last shift.
“Luke.” Marti waves as she approaches the table I’m sitting at.
She was nowhere in sight when I arrived. That doesn’t happen often, but when she needs a break, we all encourage it. She’s worked hard for her entire life. She loves it, but everyone needs downtime.
The apron around her waist is stained with red sauce. The smile on her face is good for my soul.
I stand to greet her properly. Our hugs mean as much to me as they do to her.
She breaks the embrace first, pointing at the chair I was just sitting in. “Sit.”
I do as told. “I ordered a sandwich.”
“I know.” She clucks her tongue. “I canceled that.”
“Thanks, Grandma, but I’m hungry,” I tease. “A rookie is cooking for my upcoming shift. I need something to eat so I can avoid consuming that.”
She drops a hand to her hip. “It can’t be that bad.”
“Oh, it is.” I laugh. “It’s worse than that.”
“I’ll bring the cheese ravioli and some bread.” She stares at me. “How are you doing?”
I hear the concern in her voice, but I have no idea where it’s coming from.
“I’m good.”
“No, really.” She settles into the wooden chair across from me. “I know you don’t want to talk to me about it, but I can listen. I’ll tell you what you need to be told.”