Page 49 of The Sweet Life

“You take care of yourself too, Flynn.” She managed to get the words past the painful ball stuck in her throat. Saying them hurt. Her heart hurt. Everything hurt.

He nodded. “Lock up after I’m gone.” He opened the door off the deck, his eyes meeting hers one last time before he closed it behind him.

She bowed her head and stayed where she was. Afraid she couldn’t fight the temptation to call him back if he was still there. She listened to the heavy tread of his footsteps crossing the deck and then taking the stairs to the beach. It was done. It was over.

I’m safe, she thought as she walked to the door, brushing at the tears rolling down her cheeks. But as she turned the lock, she saw him standing at the water’s edge, his hair shining golden in the moonlight.

If you saw yourself the way I do, you wouldn’t doubt my feelings for you.

His words played over in her mind, and she pressed her face to the glass, closing her eyes. He was a good man, an honest man, a loyal man, and he’d bared his heart to her. The other day in the pantry, he’d known she was afraid of her feelings for him, afraid to get hurt, afraid he’d walk away. But he was scared too. He’d told her he was, and why wouldn’t he be? He’d lost the love of his life. But that hadn’t stopped him from letting her in, from wanting her, from revealing how he felt about her with no expectations, no demands, just acceptance.

She groaned against the glass. He was everything she needed and wanted, and she was letting him walk away because she was scared. Of what? Being abandoned again? Having her heart broken again? How was that any different from what she was feeling now?

Maybe it was time she fought for what she wanted, and she wanted him. She wanted Flynn Monroe. Her sister’s ex and her daughter’s father, and dammit, they were going to have to deal with it because she was going to think about herself for a change. She wasn’t just a good daughter, a protective big sister, or a loving mother. She was a woman who… she opened her eyes… wanted the man standing right in front of her with only the glass between them.

Her fingers slipped on the lock, and it felt like an eternity had passed before she finally got it open. “I’m sorry, I—” Theyboth said the words at the same time, and then Flynn said, “You go first.”

“No, you go first,” she said, opening the door.

He nodded. “Please don’t take this the wrong way. I know you’re a strong, independent woman who doesn’t need a man to protect her—and trust me, I know how dangerous you can be armed with your wine mic. Your dance moves alone could bring a man to his knees.” He gave his head a slight shake, looking like he was having a silent conversation with himself and calling himself a dumbass. It was endearing and adorable, and if she didn’t want to hear where this was going, she’d jump him and shut him up with a kiss.

He rubbed the back of his head. “It’s just that I couldn’t live with myself if something happened to you. So would you mind if I sit on the deck until your mother and Bruno come home?”

“I would mind, actually.”

He nodded. “Yeah. I figured you might. Sorry. I should know better. My daughters lecture me about toxic masculinity all the time, and you’d think it would sink in, but I’m a man, so—”

She pressed her fingers to his lips, and she thought he might have groaned. “Shut up and kiss me, Flynn,” she said, fisting her hands in his shirt and pulling him inside. She closed the door with her hip.

His eyes narrowed on her. “Is this a test?”

She shook her head and pressed her body against his. “No.”

“How much have you had to drink?” He placed his hands on her hips.

“No wine, just some sambuca. Kiss me if you don’t believe me.” She stretched up on her toes and put her arms around his neck; his moved around her waist. “And I want you to stay, just not on the deck. I want you to stay with me tonight.”

“I think I might need to sit down,” he said, and she led him to a chair.

“Do you need some water?” she asked as he stared up at her.

“No. I need you to tell me what the hell is going on. I feel like I’m having an out-of-body experience. What changed from ten minutes ago?”

“Can I sit here?” She nodded at his lap.

“No. I need to focus on what you’re telling me, and I won’t be able to do that with you sitting on my lap.” He stood up, offering her the chair, and then pulled one out from the table and sat opposite her.

She rubbed her now-sweaty palms on her thighs. “You know, I thought I’d just kiss you, and then I’d take you up to my apartment, and we’d make love, and we’d be good.”

“I don’t want us to be good for a night, or a week, or a month. I want us to be good for as long as you and I are here on this earth.”

“That’s a long time.” The pressure in her chest made the words come out on a whisper.

“It is, so I need to know why you changed your mind, and I need to know what you want from a relationship with me.”

“I just want you.” She smiled, thinking that would be enough, but he gave her an encouraging look. He wanted more from her, and she groaned. “You know, Flynn, most men would rather skip the talking-it-out part and get to the good stuff.”

“Amateurs. They haven’t figured out that the talking-it-out part elevates the making-love part from good to mind blowing.”

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