Page 60 of At First Flight
His jaw unclenches slightly. And that tiny shift wrecks me in a way I didn’t expect. My heart cracks quietly, completely.
“They don’t want the kids for any other reason than Oliver will one day inherit the business. They want to shape him into whatever they had planned for Genevieve and me. But I…those kids need me.Needme, Lila.”
“I know,” I whisper just as we turn onto the driveway that had seemed so picturesque when I first arrived. Now, it seems as dark as Dean’s confessions.
“Sorry for letting it all out like that. You didn’t sign up to nanny an adult, too.”
“Sometimes it’s nice to let it all out. Lord knows Ashvi has listened to me vent more times than I can count.”
The car idles inside the garage, headlights beaming on the wall as Dean puts the car in park. With the press of a button, he turns the car off, but neither of us makes a move to leave the vehicle.
Looking straight ahead, Dean asks, “Do you miss anything about your ex?”
My eyes trace the strong lines of his profile as I contemplate how to answer. Do I go with the answer I’ve given everyone else, or do I go with the truth?
“I do.” His eyes cut over to mine, his body shifting slightly in the seat. I peer down at our hands, resting close but not touching on the center console. My skin prickles with the desire to reach out and confess something real. But the words stick somewhere between embarrassment and wanting.
“I don’t know how to say this,” I admit in no louder than a whisper.
I can feel his gaze on me, steady and unwavering, as he speaks. His words linger in the air between us.
“It won’t change what I think or feel for you,” Dean says, and my heart skips, my pulse stuttering in my chest.
I lift my eyes to his, trying to process what he’s just said, but all I can feel is a strange fluttering in my stomach. Nerves, disbelief, and something else too, something that might be hope.
His intense eyes are still on me like he’s trying to decipher every thought that flickers across my face.
“How are you real?” I whisper, the question slipping from my mouth before I can stop it. His presence, his words, they feel too perfect to be true.
Dean’s lips curl up at the edges, a slight smile that seems to melt the tension in the room. “I’m as real and as flawed as any man, sweetheart. But I thought I’d made it pretty clear by now that I’m completely captivated by you, Lila. From the moment I saw you running through that airport, I haven’t been able to get you out of my head.” He leans closer, and I feel it in my chest, the way his words wrap around me like a comforting embrace.
This isn’t a fling to him. I can see that now. His gaze softens, sincerity pouring from him in waves. “None of this is a joke to me. Your feelings, your needs, your wants, and your desires—they matter, Lila. And I’m not taking any of them lightly.”
My heart skips, the weight of his words pressing into me. No man has ever cared so deeply, so unapologetically, about me. Not like this. And it terrifies me, the way it stirs something in me I haven’t allowed myself to feel in a long time. It’s power, in the best possible sense. A power that makes me feel brave like I could take on the world if he’s beside me.
I take a breath, steadying myself. “I… really like you too, Dean.” The words come out quieter than I expected, but they’re true, and they feel good to say.
“I’m trying, Dean. I’m trying so hard to work through my fears and doubts. Because being around you…” I falter, the words catching in my throat. “It’s so easy and exhilarating and terrifying all at once. Yet it’s comforting, too. But sometimes, my fear of messing up… it outweighs the possibility of something amazing. Something like this.”
There’s a long pause, where the silence between us thickens. Dean doesn’t speak, doesn’t try to fix it or fill it with words. He just listens. His eyes never leave mine, unwavering, and I feel every inch of his focus on me, on my words, on the vulnerability I’ve just laid bare.
And then, after what feels like an eternity, he speaks again. His voice is softer this time, as if he’s trying to read me, to understand me. “What is it you miss about your ex?”
I freeze. My breath catches in my chest, and for a moment, everything about this moment feels delicate—fragile, like I might shatter if I don’t tread carefully. But even as the weight of his question presses down on me, I know it’s a question I need to answer. For him. For me.
But more than that… it’s a question that will push me toward whatever it is we’re building between us. And for the first time, I want to let it. I want to see where this goes. I want to stop running from what feels so right.
The stillness stretches until I bravely reply, “It’s not him so much as it’s that I miss intimacy. I miss being in a relationship. I’m not sure if you can tell, but I don’t think I’m a one-night-stand kind of girl.”
“So, you miss sex?” His signature smirk I’m coming to love twists on the corner of his lips.
“Yes, but I also miss having a partner. Someone who has my back all the time. Someone to share my hopes and dreams with.”
“And you had that with Prescott?”
My breath stops as I pause to consider his question.Did I have that with Prescott?
“I’m…I’m not even sure I was in love with him. I think I was in love with the thought of him, you know?”
