I sagged against him, panting, but there would be no rest—I was once again on my back, gasping at the ceiling before his mouth was against mine, swallowing my breath as he hitched my thighs and pumped his hips, rocking the bed, using the force to get deeper, deeper, until he stopped, groaned from the hollow of his throat, and thrust his release, riding me until he was spent, our bodies slick and tangled together.

I nestled his neck, stroking his back, kissing the salt of his skin with awe and wonder that we should be so lucky as to find each other, even if only in these fleeting moments.

Because I loved him enough to keep letting him go.

17

Promised Land

SEBASTIAN

I probably should have been conflicted about whether or not I was leaving. But I wasn’t.

Presley was.

As I held her close in the early hours of the morning, when shadows were long and still held a purple hue, I didn’t have a doubt in my mind that I wanted to stay. But I’d promised her I’d think about it, and so I would. Even though I couldn’t fathom a single thing that would change my mind other than Presley telling me she didn’t want me.

After last night, I could fathom that even less.

Without coming out and saying it, she told me exactly what she wanted—me. The little taste of possibility had fueled a daydream powerful enough to hijack all rational thought. I wanted that future. I wanted it so bad, and I could feel it right there, just at my fingertips.

Everything I thought I knew about my heart had been erased, and what I found was more honest than anything I’d ever believed. Before I felt rootless, seeking meaning in a senseless world. But now I felt those roots, and they were tangled up with hers.

Presley stirred against me, and I held her close. Could it be like this always? Could I wake up every day with Presley in my bed?

Could I have her forever?

It wasn’t a thing I’d ever believed was possible. After years and years of keeping her at arm’s length—there was no other way to survive being pulled apart over and over again—the time had finally come. Our chance was here, right here. All we had to do was not fuck it up.

With a sigh, she shimmied closer, nuzzling into my neck.

“Time is it?” she mumbled.

“Six.”

A groan. “One day, this hour will not exist in my universe.”

“No?”

“Nope. I’ll rise at the crack of whenever the hell I want and make soaps and candles instead of getting up before the sun to sling bacon and eggs.”

“You’ll smell better at the end of your day too. Ow!” I said when she pinched me.

“Asshole,” she said on a laugh.

“Are you sure it’s okay if I pick Cilla up to hang out while you’re at work?”

“Why wouldn’t it be?”

“I dunno.”

“You’re her dad. You can hang out with her whenever you want. But I don’t do refunds or exchanges, so no take-backs.”

“Takebacks, huh? You think I can’t hang?”

“You’ve never handled a tantrum on your own, so I’m just saying you should maybe survive that before making any hard commitments.”

“I got kicked in the sack the other day trying to pick her up after she dropped her lollipop in the dirt and lost her mind. I think I know what I’m getting into.”

She snickered and patted my chest. “Oh, my sweet, summer child.”

“That wasn’t the worst of it?”

She rolled away from me and flipped off the covers. “Not even close. We got lucky—she passed out the second she was in her car seat. Imagine if she’d kept it up the entire way home. In the truck. With the windows up.”

“Oh, the windows would not have been up. And music would have definitely been on too loud.”

That earned me an approving look. “It’s even better if you sing. Recording her also works, but only about half the time.”

“What happens the other half of the time?”

“She goes into honey badger mode like that.” She snapped. “Scratch your eyes clean out.”

I adjusted my pillows to prop myself up so I could watch her make her way around my room naked. Having a baby had only changed her body in the slightest of ways, like the faint, silvery stripes on her hips, or the drop of her breasts, which were a little bigger than they’d been before. I didn’t know why my psyche had been trained to believe having a baby aged a woman’s body ten years, but it was wrong. Very, very wrong. She was as hot as ever. Maybe hotter. Because every little change, every slight difference was because she’d had my child. I’d put every mark on her. I owned every one.

“So what are you guys going to do today?” she asked, digging in her bag for her clothes.