Page 62 of That Kiss

“I tried to get him to take me for a spin, but he says I’m up and moving around too soon.”

“You know your mother, Decker—she’s bound and determined to prove the doctors wrong about her recovery time.” Decker’s dad, Colton, grabs my hand and gives it a hearty shake. “We were just talking about you two.” He nods toward my parents, a rare Colton Slade smile directed toward me.

“Talking about when you two are gonna settle down and give us a grandbaby,” my mom pipes up, her eyes already brimming with tears.

“Now, Mary, you promised,” my dad says, but she ignores him completely.

“Let me just say before anyone gets any ideas in their head,” Decker says, “we have not had any discussions regarding any of the questions I’m sure you’re going to ask us. And while we are extremely grateful for your support in our relationship,” he reaches out and squeezes my hand, “I think we’d both appreciate a little privacy until we have those talks ourselves.”

“That’s the right response,” my dad says, Colton agreeing. “No need to rush anything. Just take your time, kids.”

“Just not too much time,” Brennan adds, my mother nodding enthusiastically before we say our goodbyes and make our way to Decker’s truck.

While I know that the Slades already have three grandkids, my parents have zero, and even though they’d never say it out loud, the fact that they’re already in their sixties is something that weighs heavily on them . . . and me. Maybe that was my reason for wanting kids earlier than my friends. After college, they only wanted to focus on their careers and traveling, meanwhile, I dreamed of coming back to my small-town Colorado life and starting a family.

“You okay?” His shoulder bumps against mine.

“Hmm?” I pull myself from my thoughts. “Yeah, perfect.” I smile as he reaches around to open the passenger-side door. I scoot across the seat, buckling myself into the center seat while I rest my head against his shoulder on the drive home.

“Care to join me on the deck?” he asks as soon as we’re back at the house.

“Of course.” I wrap a blanket around my shoulders and take a seat while Deck lights the fire pit.

“Now,” he says as he sinks down into the chair next to me and reaches for my hand, “tell me what’s on your mind.”

I should have known he’d see right through me.

“How’d things end with Camilla? Like, when she left here, I mean.” His demeanor remains calm—no eye twitches or flinches when I mention her name.

“Very calm. I guess you could say pleasant.”

“Pleasant?”

“Yeah, strangely. The night we got back to my house from Fort Collins, she asked me if I was in love with you.”

“Oh? And? What’d you say?”

“I told her I didn’t know.” He looks over at me. “Not because I didn’t actually know, but because I hadn’t even admitted it to myself yet. She asked if I was in love with her, and I told her I’d tried . . . which, again, she completely saw through.

“How’d she handle that?”

“I don’t think she loved hearing it, but she also called me out on my bullshit—told me I didn’t actually try—and she was right. We talked about why we both made the decisions we did regarding the engagement. I was honest with her and told her I was running from you, and that I had no right to ever ask her to marry me. I mean, fuck, I hid her from everyone and told her as much.”

My breath catches in my throat. “Are . . . are you over her?” I can barely get the words out.

His eyes grow wide and then they fill with sadness. “One hundred percent, baby. Is that something that’s been worrying you?”

“Kind of. Not because I don’t think you love me, but yeah, I wondered if seeing her again—actually having her in your home—would make you wonder what you missed out on. Make you question if a second chance was worth it.”

“Oh, sweetheart, no.” He lifts me from my chair and pulls me into his lap. “I shouldn’t have even entertained her idea, and I told her that. I think I carried a lot of guilt with how everything went down—with how I handled things—and felt I owed her a second chance. But I never wanted one. If anything, when I saw her, it only made me realize more and more how hard I had fallen for you.”

“Does . . .” I fiddle with the edge of the blanket as I avoid his eyes, “does she blame me?”

“No, not at all. In fact,” he laughs, “she told me that she had a ‘Juniper’ back in Texas. One of my cowboys, actually.”

“Oh!”

“Yeah. Nothing happened while she and I were together, but I guess they have a past history.” He reaches for my face, turning so I’m looking only at him, his warm palm pressed softly against my cheek. “I promise you, I am fully invested in you, in us. There’s no one else. No lingering feelings. No unanswered questions of “What if?” in my brain or heart. There’s only you.”

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