Page 98 of The Loves We Lost
I roll over and face Miles. In the early morning sunlight that’s sneaking through gaps in the curtains, he looks almost boyish again. How I remember him rather than the man he’s become.
But there’s a wrinkle in his brow, and his breath doesn’t have the easy pattern of deep sleep.
I trace my finger along the length of his nose. “Are you okay?”
“I think there’s something I need to say.”
My heart drops, but I kiss his lips softly. “Tell me.”
“I don’t want Avery to forever think I bailed on her when she was younger. When she’s older, I want us to tell her the truth. That I didn’t know about her.” His eyes are so full of honesty I can barely stand it. “I hate the idea she might think I didn’t want her.”
His words hit hard. I did what I felt I had to do back then for both of us. But I put myself in his shoes for a moment and immediately feel sick at the idea Avery might think I rejected her at birth. “Can we tell her when she’s old enough to understandthe full picture? I don’t want her to hate me for the choices I made either.”
Miles nods. “Yeah. Let’s decide together when the right time is, when she’s mature enough. I guess the second thing is that I still get the occasional wave of anger that I missed out on everything with her. I don’t mean to. And I’m working through it. But I wanted you to know. And I’d like to be able to tell you about it rather than bottling it up.”
I run my thumb along his cheek. “I’m so sorry. God, what did I do? I made a mess.”
“I’m not telling you so that you apologize again. I know your reasons. They make sense. But, for example, Spark was showing one of those ultrasound images around the other day, all excited, about how his kid is the size of a strawberry or something. And I just had this pang of ... envy.”
“I can’t fix it, but if you have any questions about any of it, ask me. I have spare copies of Avery’s ultrasounds that didn’t make her baby book. You can have them. It won’t fix everything, but anything I can do to help.”
“I appreciate that, buttercup.” He brushes my hair back from my face. “Can we also talk about how it’s only four more days until the end of your first two weeks here?”
“Yes,” I say amiably.
“Was wondering where your head was at.”
I smile. “Right now, it’s on your pillow.”
“Right where it belongs.” He grips my hips and nuzzles into my neck. “You need a spanking, pretty girl? Or are you going to answer my question?”
“Where’s your head at?” I say between giggles. “Having me and Avery around must have been an adjustment for you.”
He slides my leg over his thigh and dips his finger between my legs, giving gentle strokes between my lips and over my clit.
“I claimed you years ago. Still claiming you. You think just anyone can come into the clubhouse, can be one of our family? You think my brothers pitch in to decorate houses just so some club girl has a nice little getaway?” He dips his finger in me. “You’re mine, and unless you have a fucking good reason, you’re staying here with me. Because short of getting it tattooed on my fucking face, I’ve done everything I can to claim you. I thought after the wedding and shit happened, you were ready to claim me too.”
“Miles,” I whisper.
“So, I repeat, where’s your head at, buttercup? Because I really need to know.”
I’m past the point of pretending that I don’t know what’s in my heart. “I claim you too,” I say. Tears sting my eyes as the moment overwhelms me. “We keep showing up for each other. Having the tough conversations. Loving each other. And Avery.”
“’Bout fucking time, buttercup,” he says.
He kisses the tears on my cheeks as he lifts the hem of the T-shirt and slides into me. I’m still tender from the previous evening, but I’m learning that I sometimes need the sting to offset the sweet. Tenderness and domination. Ecstasy and power. Love and pain.
Not that any of those are opposites.
We fumble and kiss with the limited range of movement we have while lying on our sides. Miles rolls me onto my back, and the depth of his stroke changes.
Deeper.
More demanding.
“Can’t believe I get to wake up with you like this for the rest of my life,” he says.
The rest of our lives.
