Page 73 of If Only In Our Dreams

Robin sucked in a wobbly breath like what I’d said physically hurt. “Miles says there’s room for us in Belleville despite our baggage. But even he doesn’t know half the shit I’ve been through.”

“You’re a fighter.”

“That’s all I’ve ever done.” Robin melted into me, the barbs in his eyes gone.

Robin amazed me. He truly did. Messy but kind. Scared, but willing to believe the best of people—just because that was who he was. I admired that, especially as someone who struggled to believe the best in people.

“You know what’s weird?” Robin’s voice was soft again, turmoil forgotten.

I didn’t press, because it wasn’t my place to. I’d said my piece, and he’d need time to process it, I was sure. Still though, I held him close, soaking him up like a dry sponge as I took a sip of wine so I could pretend like things were normal, even though they felt anything but.

“What’s weird?” I echoed after I’d swallowed.

“You.”

“Me?” I laughed, taking another sip of wine before twisting to look at him.

“There it is.”

“Therewhatis?”

“My eyebrow.” He reached up with one painted finger and gently poked at my brow. I snorted out a laugh, amused.

“I’m pretty sure that’s my eyebrow.”

“Nah. I adopted it. It’s mine now.” Robin grinned up at me. It was the cutest fucking grin. He was a little tipsy, but nothing uncomfortable. His toes wiggled beneath my thigh again.

Not rising to the bait, I spoke again, “What about me is weird?”

My heart thudded erratically, and I could admit I couldn’t wait to hear what his response would be.

“Everything.”

“Everything?” I laughed, incredulous.

“Yep.” Robin’s eyes crinkled. Lovely lines expanded as he did so, his dimples flashing. For the first time I could see the touch of age. He looked young, probably thanks to good genetics. But there was no denying that Robin Johnson’s soul was old.

“Are you going to elaborate?”

“Nope.” Robin’s chin dug into my chest as he laughed, this quiet riotous thing. Because even now he was aware that my angels were asleep down the hall.

I wanted to kiss him.

Wanted to kiss his cherry red lips. To chase the wine along his tongue. To show him how much I enjoyed him, thoroughly, with my tongue.

Instead, I kissed his forehead.

Slow, sweet.

The skin was warm, and Robin shuddered beneath me as I stroked the back of his neck and lingered as long as I could.

When I pulled back there was a foggy expression on his face. I hadn’t even needed to praise him this time to get him to respond like that, but that didn’t stop me from doing it anyway. “You are so lovely,” I told him, because it was true. “And so brave for sharing that with me.”

Robin shivered, leaning into me with a muffled sigh.

“Are you ready for bed?” I asked him, gently rubbing the back of his neck and up into the fuzzy soft, shorn hair at his nape. “You can use my shower. I have pajamas for you.”

“You’re so good to me,” he countered, like that was a miracle.

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