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Putting the top back on the ice cream, I replace it in the freezer and pick up both spoons, handing one to Shae. She hesitates for a fraction of a second before grabbing it and scooping up some of the dessert.

I watch her as she takes a bite, her eyes closing at the hit of sweetness.

“Wow, for old people ice cream, that’s pretty damn good,” she says. My mouth dries from watching her, and I’m sure I’ll say something stupid if I talk right now, so I shovel in a bite so big, it immediately causes brain freeze.

Shae grimaces when I hiss.

“Ow. Did the cold get you?” she asks, and squinting at her, I press on the vein in my temple and nod.

That’s sexy, I’m sure.

When the pain passes, I clear my throat and say, “Got overzealous with the Blue Bell,” and Shae snorts.

We eat our ice cream slowly in a comfortable silence for a full minute before Shae speaks again.

“It’s been a week.” She places her spoon back in the bowl and winds her fingers together, her palms kissing.

“It has,” I say, putting my spoon down opposite hers.

“So can you answer my questions now?” she whispers, still looking down at her hands. I so want to touch her, I want to control her movements so she can look at me, see me.

Instead, I take Riale’s advice.

“Would you look at me, Shae?”

She takes in a slow, deep breath, and in inches, she looks up until our gazes lock.

The fear there has me choking, not because it’s present, but becauseIput it there.

“With the kids and co-parenting,” I start, remembering the questions she asked back in the media room days ago. “I want to be there. I don’t want to miss a second with them, Shae. Even missing saying goodnight feels wrong.”

She nods, still holding my gaze, and I try to project just how honest I’m being, just how much I want to have my cake and eat it, too.

“I understand that,” she rasps.

“As for Legoland in Tokyo,” I say, a slight grimace coming to my face. “Things are technically safer right now, but I still don’t think it’s a good idea. Not for the foreseeable future.”

Shae bites her bottom lip, her brows furrowed.

“What in the world does ‘technically safe’ mean?” she asks, leaning away from me. Her spine hits the back of her chair. I stare at her, searching for what to tell her and how. It’s not that I’m being purposefully difficult, but more that I’m afraid she’ll be overwhelmed and run.

But isn’t that the point? To trust her and respect her by giving her the chance to choose?

To choose me?

“Major steps forward have been made tonight,” I say. “But I don’t know what the fallout will be yet.”

Shae remains quiet for a moment, but the guarded look begins to fall from her face. She swallows and says, “Why didn’t you tell me your uncle killed your parents?”

The words are soft, but I catch them anyway. Is this the moment where it all comes down on my head? Where she finds out just how much of an idiot I was, and how my immaturity wrecked the best thing in my life?

“Is that why you broke up with me, Storm? Or was it really all about long-distance?”

My throat burns, all the words I want to say jamming in my esophagus.

I’ve let her have her beliefs about why I left, but I can’t….

“I would have followed you to the ends of the Earth, Shae,” I vow, and goddamn it, the statement has me wanting to bawl. Fuckin’ bawl.