Page 117 of Bottles & Blades

“It’s too late for protests, baby. Save them for another time.”

She scowls.

“Say bye to Tiff and I’ll be up in a minute.”

I get a hug, a soft “’night.”

And then she’s zipping into the hall and tramping up the stairs.

I start gathering my stuff, but I’m also waiting—because I can feel that Stefan has something to say.

And he doesn’t make me wait long.

“You still seeing that man who’s too old for you?”

Sighing, I shrug on my backpack, lean a hip against the counter, and lift my brows. “Yes, I am still seeing Jean-Michel.” I hold his gaze. “He’s a good man.”

“He’s too old,” he mutters.

“Stefan,” I say gently. “I know that you’re protective, but I need you to be happy for me in this.”

He scowls, and it’s so much like Roxie’s expression from a moment before that I have to bite back my smile. “That’s what Brit says.”

“I like him, Stefan. More than I thought possible.” I give him the truth because he’s taken my back, helped me through dark times, same as I helped him. “When I’m with Jean-Michel, it’s like everything makes sense. It’s easy. I can be myself and I feel safe and…I’ve lived so many lifetimes already—sick kid, kid with cancer, teenager who looked death in the face, young woman who was lost and scared and alone, woman who found something special with you and Brit, and now…I get to just a woman who’s living the life I want.”

His big chest inflates on a breath, but I go on.

“I’m happy,” I say. “I’m not alone. I know it’s new, know it’s not going to be perfect, that things may not work out in the end, but I also know that if I don’t see this through with Jean-Michel, I will look back and know I missed out on something wonderful.”

He exhales. “Dammit, kid.”

“What?”

“I can see you mean that.”

“I do,” I agree.

“I want to hate him.”

I grin. “I can give you a little more time to do just that if you need.”

He chuckles, tugs at my ponytail. “I can see you mean that too.” Another sigh, his face sobering. “I’m glad you’re happy, kid. Really glad. But,” he adds, nodding to the front door because it’s getting late, “if he hurts you, I will fucking kill him.”

I shake my head. “The way you say that so cheerfully…”

Another chuckle as he walks me out to my car, tugs open the door.

“He owns the Eagles, Tiff,” he says. “That’s bad enough.”

I laugh as I buckle my seatbelt, glancing up at his next words.

“But seriously, sweetheart?—”

His eyes go cold, intense, and my heart pulses.

This teddy bear of a man.

I’m lucky to have him in my life.

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