Page 9 of Nothing Left to Lose

He laughed, his cheeks pink, and he ducked his head. “Well, yeah, of course it was.”

Lord, his cute reaction almost did me in.

“Well, you fooled them both.”

His eyes met mine. “I think it was the forehead thing you did that convinced them.”

“The forehead thing?”

“Yeah, when you pressed your forehead to mine. Like you did in the photo.”

Oh god.

Yeah, that was me trying to savor every moment and not expire at the same time.

I fell back on the bed and put the pillow back over my face. “One of my many moves,” I joked. “It’s called The Forehead Thing. Works every time.”

Brody was quiet for a moment, and that sleepy, heavy feeling was settling over me. That nap was starting to sound really good. I patted the bed on the other side of me. “Nap time.”

Brody climbed over me and lay down beside me, his arm resting heavily across my belly. “Thought you’d never ask.”

“Since when do you ever wait for me to ask?”

“Well, now that we’re married, I thought I’d try it.”

I gave him a shove, and he laughed, but never moved his arm. I pulled the pillow off my face and shoved it under my head, but I kept my eyes shut.

Pretty sure he was looking at me.

Damn sure I didn’t have the guts to look at him.

That stupid voice in my head told me to enjoy the moment. Enjoy the feel of his arm on me, enjoy the feel of him beside me in bed, because it was all I’d ever get.

After this weekend, I was sure of that.

The wheels would fall off at some point.

They had to.

Because my heart was nearing the finish line. I had to make a clean break and move on with my life and my unrequited love and get over Brody Molina, once and for all. This weekend would be the end.

Enjoy it while it lasts.

No, it’s not real. It’s all fake for some contest and a free weekend in Vegas. But all that shit in your head that you dreamed up over the years wasn’t real either, so what the hell.

Enjoy this as a last hurrah, a fond farewell, a last goodbye.

Sure.

I’ll consider myself the conductor of the band that played on while the Titanic sank.

Like he was a mind reader, Brody pulled me into his arms and held me. “You okay? You’re mumbling to yourself again,” he said.

I was going to protest but he felt so good against me. He smelled incredible and his arms were strong, his chest warm against my cheek.

So yeah, I could give myself one last weekend.

And the band on the Titanic continued to play.

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