Page 22 of Everywhere You Look

“No…dating?” he asks, and I nod, furiously.

“At least until the court hearing. You shouldn’t be dating anyone. Neither of us should be dating anyone else until we know for sure that the girls are ours. Even then, we should probably keep it on the down low. We shouldn’t be flaunting our conquests around or anything. We can keep it hush hush. Even from each other. Unless you want to tell me about your conquests, I guess I can’t stop you. But I’d prefer not to hear about them, as your husband.” My words come out in a hurry, all jumbling together in the end like one incoherent thought. And Dean…

Well. It turns out I was wrong when I said Dean couldn’t frown.

Oh boy, can Dean frown.

In the past, I’ve thought that if and when we hadto discipline the kids, I’d have to be the one to bring down the hammer of justice. But maybe I’m wrong, because Dean really has the whole “I’m both madanddisappointed” dad-look down pat.

“I mean, if you want to date—” I continue, but Dean cuts me off by pressing his palm to my mouth.

“Luke Cannon, have you lost your goddamn marbles? I’m not dating anyone. I have no plans to date anyone else. That is the furthest thing from my mind. Are you thinking about dating other people?” He asks, and he sounds positively incensed.

It’s probably wrong that I like that so much.

“Mmmnahfink—”

“What are you saying?”

Apparently, Dean doesn’t realize that he still has his palm pressed tightly against my lips, making it impossible for me to speak. It’s also making it nearly impossible for me to think about anything besides the light scent of orange and cinnamon on his skin. I bring my hand up to his and gently pull it away, sucking in a deep inhale of breath.

“I said, I’m not thinking about dating. I probably won’t be able to think about dating until all three girls are out of the house, and even then, I’ll likely be too old and tired.”

“Then why would you even bring it up?” Dean asks, sounding less angry but still not pleased.

“I just…I said it just in case. I mean, what about sex?” I shrug.

“What about sex?”

“Are you planning on just never having sex again? Or at least until the end of this arrangement?”

Dean’s jaw ticks, and I don’t know if it’s the thought of forgoing sex or the fact that I’ve bothered to bring the topic up at all that’s got his panties in a twist, but the scrunched up look on his face tells me that I’m about to find out.

“I don’t know, Luke. I…I don’t…look. I don’t have all the answers right now. I don’t want to say that I never plan on having sex ever again, but I’m a monogamous person. We’re about to be married, and that means I plan on being faithful to you. I can’t tell you what to do, but the thought of you—I mean, my husband—being with someone else is making me feel all murderous and stabby and I don’t fucking like it.”

Something deep inside me stirs as I look into Dean’s eyes. A sort of longing I didn’t know I was capable of tugs at my heart, pulling me closer to him. The sane, adult part of my brain knows that it’s just the idea of non-monogamy that has Dean so…stabby, as he says. It’s not really me that he’s being possessive over, but that doesn’t mean I can’t let myself enjoy his hypothetical jealousy, just a little bit.

I lean in, inching my way into his personal space until our foreheads are almost touching.

“I’m a monogamous person, too. And it’s not like I have men lining up to ravish me or the time to be ravished, even if I were interested. I didn’t mean to make you stabby. I just thought…if we’re making rules…”

“I get it. But maybe we don’t make any long-term rules around that subject. I have this sudden urge to break every bone in the hand of this hypothetical stranger that you could possibly be going on a date with. It’s confusing me. You know I’m not the bone-breaking type, and I don’t want to think about it,” he huffs. The tone of his voice is so bratty, it almost makes me laugh.

“No long term rules then. How about we just…agree to revisit the topic once we’ve gotten permanent custody of the kids. That way, we’ll have a better idea of what our future looks like.”

Dean presses his lips together into a tight line, but he nods.

“I’m not sorry I brought up seeing other people, because I think it needed to be said,” I continue. “But I won’t bring it up again. It’s you and me, Dean. You are my best friend, my favorite person, and I’m just the lucky son of a bitch who gets to put a ring on your finger.”

The energy between us crackles like live wire, shooting off sparks of light and fire every which way. Dean’s cologne invades my senses, that citrus, woodsy scent that lingers long after he leaves a room. That clung to the sheets on my hospital bed after long days of watching TV together during my recovery, back when Dean refused to leave my side until the nurses came around to kick him out. That delicious, intoxicating blood orange scent that, like his hand on my cheek, has come to mean comfort. Safety. Love.

And now…partnership.

And partnership is what I have to focus on. Not the chemistry that I might be imagining, and definitely not the invisible magnet that seems to be pulling me closer and closer to Dean’s pretty, sweet-looking lips.

“Well, now that that’s settled, I guess all that’s left is to get married. I mean, holy shit, Dean. We’re going to be married. Friends who are married. Bro-husbands,” I say, and I immediately want to take the words back.

Bro-husbands? Bro-husbands?!

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