Page 51 of Doing It for Love

But then Landon shakes his head, and my tiny panic moment subsides a bit.

“Not yet. But they cut everyone’s hours to avoid layoffs.”

“How much?”

“Down to thirty-two a week, so we can still legally be full-time and keep our benefits.”

I let out a breath. That’s not bad. At least he still has a job.

His eyes close and his forehead plops down on mine. “I’m sorry. I should’ve worked more overtime when I could have. I should’ve rescheduled the trip to Philly. I should’ve given you my credit card, stopped spending money on dumb shit, I should’ve—”

“Stop. We’ll be okay.”

“Because of you. Because you know how to budget and work overtime and actually work formoney.”

“You’ll get paid to direct, Landon. You just have to put in your dues.”

He shakes his head and lets out a breath of defeat. “What was I thinking?”

My heart breaks a little…at seeing him feel so helpless, like he’s failed somehow. But he has no idea how incredible he is.

I don’t think any words can help at this point. I could try to pacify him, tell him we’ll be okay, that we have a savings, I’ll keep working overtime, and at least I’mnotpregnant right now…but I know it won’t help. It’ll probably make him feel worse…that I have to pick up his slack or something, even though this is a partnership. So instead of words, I slide my arms around his neck, hold him close, squeeze him tight, make him understand how important he is in my life.

His arms circle my waist, and our hearts beat with each other in our suddenly quiet world. I think the power of a hug is always underestimated until you’re in one. I know I should be worried. I’m pretty sure there are parts of me that are freaking out about not only bills and rent, but also about my dress, the cake, the tuxes, the wedding hall, and thehoneymoon.But those parts are quiet, almost nonexistent in the arms of the man I love.

He squeezes my entire body twice. And I squeeze back once.

“You know what I think you need?” I say over his shoulder. A small laugh shakes his body and I know what he’s thinking, but neither of us says it out loud. “I think you need sleep.”

“Pretty sure you need that, too.”

I lean back, take his hand in mine, and pull him toward the bed. “Come on, then.”

He tucks me in on my side and stays on top of the blanket on his. We spoon, and I play with his rough hands, run my fingers over the hair on his arms, enjoy being close and hoping I’m helping him doze off.

“It’s working,” he says.

“Huh?”

“You’re shutting down my mind.”

“Good.”

He presses closer, letting his face fall into the crook of my neck. “And don’t think I don’t know what you were trying to do when I walked in.”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“The bike wasn’t even on.”

“You have to turn it on?”

He silently chuckles. “You want me to help you put it back after our nap?”

“Yes, please.”

“I love you, Tumbles.”

“I love you, too.”

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