I told him I was sorry, but it wasn’t enough. I don’t think it’ll ever be enough, even if I said it every minute of every day for the rest of eternity. I hate that I let my fears overstupid things get in the way of this. He was right all along. I would get by. I would be fine. Because I am, and I did it on my own—with help and support from friends. I needed that. Being away from Tobias sucked, but having the confidence of figuring this out, of surviving, was good for me.
I want everything with this man. Hopefully, when he wakes up, he doesn’t feel like last night was a mistake. This could all go very badly. He could kick me out, tell me he regrets it and never wants to see me again. I don’t think anything would hurt more than that. I'd have to respect his wishes and go, but it wouldn't be easy.
“Why are you staring?” he murmurs, and I can’t help but laugh.
“Can’t help it,” I whisper. “You’re hot.”
He smirks, but keeps his eyes closed, sliding closer to me and hugging me tighter. That’s a good sign. He isn’t mad. He’s happy. That’s all I want for him. For us, really. Together.
“Tobias?” I say gently.
“Hm?”
“It’s tomorrow.”
He opens his gorgeous hazel eyes, and they find mine like a magnet.
“Yeah, it is,” he says in a sleepy voice.
I run my thumb along his bottom lip, then lean in to kiss him, and whisper, “I love you.”
He sighs softly, and I add, “You taught me what it feels like to live.” The smallest frown appears between his eyebrows, and I keep going. “I don’t want to go back to pretending.”
“You won’t have to,” he responds. “Because I love you too.”
“Say it again.”
“I love you, baby.”
I kiss him again, this time more playfully and firmly, until I’m pushing him onto his back and crawling on top of him. I rest my head on his chest while his arms come around me and we stay like that for a while. I’m in and out of sleep, his soft breathing and beating heart comforting me like nothing else.
“Where’s Biscuit?” he asks, breaking the silence. “She’s fine alone all night?”
I turn my head, resting my chin on his chest to look at him. If I answer that question, I’m not sure he’ll take it the right way. So instead, I say, “How about I make you breakfast and tell you what I’ve been up to?”
“Sounds like you’re avoiding the question. You didn’t get rid of her, did you?”
There isn't an accusation in his voice, and I don’t want to put any negative thoughts in his head.
“Of course I didn’t. And I’m not avoiding it, you just need context,” I explain.
He frowns, and again, I kiss him because I can’t help it, then I get out of bed.
“Third drawer,” he says, jerking his head toward his dresser.
I go to it, pull it open and find sweatpants. I get us each a pair, and we put them on before going to the kitchen. He has no fresh food in here, so I settle on a box of pancake mix with a questionable expiration date on it. All it requires is water, so I mix it up and make the whole thing.
Once we’re sitting at the table, eating dry pancakes because he has no syrup, and drinking black coffee, I decide it’s time to tell him the whole story. From the day he left, up until last night. I tell him all about Marianne and me talking things out, how we told our families together, and how mine haven’t spoken to me since—except for my brother. I tell him about living with Asher and Morgan. That Marianne got me a job with her father, to which he frowns, and that Biscuit has been there—which makes him frown deeper.
“And I know what you’re thinking,” I say. “And I understand that it may be weird for you, but this is what feels right for Marianne and me. We’re friends, have been from the beginning, and this is the way it needs to stay.”
He nods, studying me for a long moment before saying, “Thank you for telling me all of that. For being honest.”
“Tobias, I swear I will never lie to you about anything ever again. Unless it’s for your birthday.”
“You don’t even know when my birthday is…” He smirks.
Fuck, he’s right.