Page 102 of When You Were Mine

“But we don’t have to do that anymore.”

“You were the boy who couldn’t be in the same room without touching me. When my mom died, you rode your bike to my house and sat with me. You were eight, Trevor. And how many times did I walk into my classroom and find a flower on my desk? A bag of M&M’s under my pillow? Remember when I was sick and missed a whole week of school? Trevor, you brought me popsicles the first day, a sketchbook and markers the second day, three DVDs the day after that… I mean, I went from that kind of absolute adoration to”—she snapped her fingers—“nothing. Just like that, you were gone. Can you imagine what that felt like?”

“No. I can’t.”

“So, what I’m saying is you left me. You spent the last thirty years regretting it. I spent it healing. I’m healed now, Trevor.”

Anguish threatened to grab hold and yank him under, but his determination wouldn’t let it. “That’s why it’ll work between us now. We’re both healed.”

She didn’t look too sure about that.

And that was fair. He still carried guilt where she and Cole were concerned. “Okay, fine. I’m not as far along as you are. But I’m working on it. Can I get credit for that?”

“Sure. Now, sit down and finish eating.”

“I’m still the guy who can’t be in the same room and not touch you,” he grumbled, but he did as she asked.

“Yeah, well, that’s one of the things I’ve missed the most.”

“Being touched?” It made him curious about her fiancé. What kind of relationship did they have?

“No. It’s more…” She waved her fork as she tried to find the words. “You know what I learned about being a mom?” Her eyes went wide. “Not that I’m a mom. I’m not. But being the oldest sister and aunt, I feel like I make the magic, but I don’t get to experience it. It’s hard to explain.”

“For the record, you’re a mom. Maybe not biologically, but in every other sense of the word.”

“Yeah, probably. But I just mean I’m the one who hosts the birthday parties and fills the stockings. I cook the big holiday meals.”

“Your sisters never host?”

“Not really. Well, the year I had surgery, Kelly hosted?—”

“Whoa, hang on. What kind of surgery?”

“Oh, it was just a cyst. It wasn’t a big deal. I’m just saying I’ve been a lot of things in my life. I’ve worn a lot of hats, but I haven’t been the main character in a relationship since the day you left.”

He couldn’t eat. Could barely keep himself seated. His need for this woman overwhelmed him. “You realize, in a parallel universe, we’re eating this dinner in bed, right?”

She stilled.

“You’re sitting on my lap, and I’m feeding you these potatoes because you like them more than I do, and you’re thinking you shouldn’t eat carbs, especially ones with salt and butter, and I’m telling you that your body is perfect, and I love your curves, and I like watching your ass jiggle while I fuck you from behind.”

“Well, that’s completely inappropriate.” Her features flushed, and she licked her bottom lip. “Go on.”

He picked his chair up and moved it right next to hers, placing his hands on her thighs. “You kiss me because you like knowing you can be completely yourself around me. You can chew with your mouth open and laugh so hard your face gets weird-looking?—”

“What do you mean by ‘weird-looking’?”

But he ignored her. “And you know I’ll see a woman who loves food and has a gusto for life that makes me want to get closer, to soak up all that passion and break through whatever membrane keeps our bodies and souls separated.”

She scraped her fingernails from his temples to the back of his head. “No one’s ever loved me the way you do.”

“That’s because we’re made for each other. In this life and every life, it’s always going to be Elzy and me. Wild Bill and Calamity Jane. Do you believe me?”

She searched his eyes, color surging into her cheeks. Confidence took hold. “Yes. I think I do.”

“Thank fuck.” He lowered his head onto her shoulder and held her as close as he could with two armrests in the way.

Her hands fisted in his hair. “Trevor?” she whispered.

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