Page 100 of Lace 'em Up

“Thank you,” I say. “I don’t know if I ever explicitly thanked you for what you did with Phillip?—”

“You did.”

My eyes lock with his, those pools of warm blue water that I want to dive into, to spend eternity floating in. “I hope you know that I really?—”

“I do.”

“And that I don’t know what would have happened if you hadn’t?—”

“You would have been okay.” He tucks me against his chest, kisses the top of my head. “You would have been okay because you’re a fighter, a survivor.” Fingers under my chin. “And you have Jean-Michel on your side.”

That has me grinning, thinking about all of the ways that Jean-Michel has looked after me over the years. Rescuing me from a shitty job. Treating me like a daughter. Praising my work. Encouraging me to keep pushing. Supporting my rescue. Even keeping my secret from Mama Bang. “More like a grumpy, domineering fairy godmother who’s determined to get his way.”

King stills.

Then he does the most wonderful thing…

He laughs.

“What?” I ask as Zeus wakes up enough to crawl up King’s chest, fluffy wriggly body bouncing as he joins in on the excitement.

“Nothing,” King says, still chortling. “I’m just picturing Jean-Michel, killer businessman who dominates the boardroom and can eviscerate you with a look, sporting fairy wings and a magic wand.”

I giggle.

“See?” he teases, tucking my hair behind my ear. “It’s funny.”

And, God, I really love it when he does that.

A gentle tuck, roughened fingertips running over the shell of my ear, caressing the sensitive lobe.

Running down the front of my throat.

I shiver, and—as always—he notices.

And he does something about it, tucking me against his chest, drawing the blankets over us, coaxing Zeus to lay down in front of me, so I’m the filling in a fluffer-man sandwich.

It’s sweet.

It’s…pretty much all I’ve ever wanted—to feel safe and secure and protected.

My throat is tight and my eyes sting but I push that down and I commit this moment to memory.

Because who knows when I’ll have it again?

Who knows how long it will last?

But I do know exactly how precious it is.

And that’s why I tuck this feeling away, why I vow to keep it safe.

“Why is Jean-Michel your fairy godmother?” he asks as he wraps his arm around my belly, drawing me even more flush against him.

I give it to him.

King had taken away any hope of me hiding anything from him when he saw the bruises on my throat, when he tended the cuts on my feet.

When he shared what was eating him up inside about his ex, his dad.

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