Page 121 of If Only In Our Dreams

And after he’d cleaned me up with a warm, fluffy towel, and bundled me in pajamas, he rose from bed, opened the door, and returned to bed, sleepy soft.

His arms were as octopus-y as usual as he curled around me, his nose pressed to my throat. “Have sweet dreams, Robin,” he said, like the giant teddy bear he was. Like he hadn’t just spent the last hour practically fisting me and making me dry orgasm.

One of Ben’s big hands slid over my chest, warm enough I could feel its heat even through the hoodie I’d borrowed. His breath came slow and easy, body succumbing to rest after a week of non-stop working. When he tweaked my nipple, hard, I whined—and he laughed.

Before immediately falling asleep.

“Papa?” Jane asked over breakfast at my mom’s on the day Robin and I were due to leave for the airport. She had syrup on her chin, and her little blonde pigtails were slightly crooked. I’d thought I’d gotten them perfect, as usual, but apparently I’d been distracted.

When I’d offered to fix them she’d leveled me with an entirely unimpressed stare, and that had been that.

“Yes, angel?” I replied, sipping my coffee, a thousand and one thoughts buzzing around inside my head. Like: what would we eat for lunch? Should I pack a lunch in my bag for us to avoid the crowds at the airport? What was the best way for me to protect Robin from the paparazzi he hated? Could I hide him so he wouldn’t feel uncomfortable?

The girls often asked me random questions, and normally I was more present. But my anxiety was at an all-time high because I wanted this trip to be perfect. I wanted to prove toRobin that he could let me into his life. That the fact he’d opened up to me was a good thing. That we could make this work.

I wanted to show him what our life could be like, if he decided to let me be a permanent fixture. I wanted to show him that I was capable of handling everything he needed me to, and more, just like I’d promised.

“Why doesn’t Robin have a home?” Jane asked, stabbing her French toast like she was trying to kill it.

It took me a second to process her words, and when I did, all my swirling thoughts halted—frozen still.

“What?” I asked, hollow.

“Doesn’t anybody love him?” she asked, carving my heart right out of my chest with her sweet little hands. I stared at her, unable to find the words to respond.

“What do you mean?” I asked again a moment later, even though I knew what she meant. I was stalling. Trying to get my heart to work again, when all I could think of was sad green eyes and a boy whose parents had trained him to think the people he loved would always hurt him.

“Robin was helping me sing,” she explained. “And he said he wishes he could sing what he wants to—like how I can.” She frowned. “And I asked him why he can’t. And he said that if he does he’ll lose his home.”

“But Robin doesn’thavea home,” Rosie tacked on. She’d been oddly silent this whole time. Normally she was the chatterbox, so this was out of character for the both of them. “If he had one, he wouldn’t be so sad. And he wouldn’t be at our house all the time.”

JesusChrist.

Mama’s voice echoed somewhere deeper in the house, probably yelling at one of the older grandkids that were over. But I could barely hear her. Could barely hear anything over the pounding of my own heart, and the whoosh of my breath.

This felt like abigmoment.

The kind of moment that carved paths through ice and shattered icebergs. That shook foundations. That cracked through stone.

Before I could open my mouth and ask the girls if this was their way of asking for Robin to stop spending so much time with us—they beat me to the punch. Eviscerated me, with their tiny blonde pigtails, and their honey-toned eyes.

“Can’t Robin’s home be with us?” Jane asked, quiet and pure.

“We love him,” Rosie told me matter-of-factly. “He can have my bed if you don’t want to share yours anymore.”

I stared at them both for a beat, trying to figure out what the fuck I was supposed to do in this situation. I’d genuinely never thought I would ever date. But meeting Robin had thrown that right out the window. Since then, I’d made a plan in place for this, for the day I’d tell the girls that I wanted to keep him, that Robin would be coming home permanently—if he wanted to, of course. But that plan had not included the girls bringing it up first or so soon.

I was floored in the best possible way.

“That’s very sweet of you,” I told Rosie, warmth flooding my chest as she sat up taller, looking very pleased with herself. “But not necessary. If Robin moves in with us, I would prefer he continue to share with me.”

“Why?” Rosie asked, like I’d just shat in her cereal.

“Because they’re in love,” Jane explained, like she’d explained this a thousand times. She frowned at her sister. “People who love each other share beds and kiss and stuff.”

“I hate that,” Rosie told me, but then frowned. “But…I would hate it more if Robin left.”

“He has to go back for his job,” I explained, voice soft. “But maybe he can have a home with us whenever he comes to visit? Would you like that?”

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