Page 50 of Love and Other Risky Business

His hand settles over mine and he laces our fingers. “You didn’t?”

What am I doing? I can’t stop the words, though. Can’t let Timothy feel the way I felt that night for another minute. “I was never going to go for that drink. I wasn’t interested in him, he isn’t…” Isn’twhat? I don’t know, so I leave it hanging.

“He’s not me,” Timothy says softly.

I turn my head and he smiles at me like he’s joking, but his lips don’t turn all the way up. He’s not joking. He’s right.

“No. He’s not you.” The whisper slips out of me before I can catch it.

“I want you, Mina,” he says softly. “I want to kiss your sweet lips and take you home and worship every inch of your body with every inch of mine. I want to cook for you and rub your neck when you spend too many hours at your sewing machine. I want to give you everything you want and spoil you and fight with you and make up with you. Maybe you weren’t paying attention, but maybe I’ve held back. I want you to know all of me, even the things I don’t want to talk about.” He lifts our linked hands, pressing a soft kiss on the inside of my wrist. “I’m not asking anything from you. I only want you to know. I’m yours.”

I don’t know what to do, so I turn my gaze back to the tank in front of me. It’s too much, all at once. He hasn’t been seeing anyone this whole time. He’s been in serious relationships before. He loves me and he’s retired and he’s perfect. It’s a different woman who raises her hand and weakly says, “Look, a shark.”

Timothy’s lips brush the edge of my ear and I can feel his smile. It seeps into my skin, warming me gently. “It’s been a long time since I’ve had sex. I need to go stand somewhere else for a few minutes, or everyone will know I’m packing a Moray eel in these shorts.”

I snort, but maybe some physical space will do me some good. I need to digest this and recalibrate. The cool air where his warmth was makes me shiver again and I miss having him close the moment he slips away.

All those gorgeous men and women who would’ve happily jumped into bed with him, and he went out on friendship dates? Who does that? It’s so weird, but it sounds exactly like something Timothy would do. He lived alone. Nic was on Addison’s short leash. I was always working. Timothy needs people and attention and fun, or he wilts.

All my cards are gone. All my excuses. If I want Timothy, all I have to do is tell him. My heart is still bashing around my chest. I don’t like this out-of-control freefall.

I turn around and find him immediately in the crowd. He’s over by the touch tank, pointing something out to a couple of seven or eight-year-olds standing near him. He looks up immediately and smiles, and I remember. My last card.

I can’t have kids. Timothy wants them and he deserves to be a dad. He’ll make a great dad.

Dammit, I didn’t expect it to hurt this much.

I turn to the tank in front of me and watch the lazy progression of a silver fish floating through the water as I try to get my emotions under control. I am not crying at the zoo. And I don’t regret my decision.

When I look back at Timothy, his entire arm is submerged in the touch tank and he’s noisily pretending the stingrays are devouring him to the delight of the kids nearby. Even the moms are entertained—why wouldn’t they be, when his tanned, muscled arm emerges dripping from the tank?

Warmth radiates through me and I smile because he’s everything to me. His eyes lock on mine and he smiles back, and I know.

I love him. In every way it’s possible to love another person, but most definitely as more than a friend.

It can’t be—wecan’t be. I need to smother this, fast, before it consumes me.

I walk over to put an end to his fun before he gets banned from the zoo for causing emotional distress to a tank full of stingrays, but he pulls me close, sliding his wet hand over mine and pulling it down to the water. A stingray swims up, breaking the surface. Timothy guides my fingers to it, and it’s like touching the baby of a mushroom and a sponge. Soft, in a way. Cool and wet.

The stingray swims on, water drips from our joined hands, and Timothy nuzzles against my neck. “You okay?”

“Perfect,” I say, watching as he glides our hands through the water. It’s calming. “I can’t have kids.”

When Timothy gives me a confused look, I sigh. “You want kids,” I remind him. “No uterus, remember?”

Timothy cuddles me tight, his hand protective over my stomach. “Bisexual, remember? Not having the possibility of biological kids isn’t a deal-breaker for me when it comes to relationships and I’m happy you aren’t suffering every month.”

My face heats. I am an absolute dumbass for thinking he’d expect more from me than he would a boyfriend. And without all my excuses, I recognize what he probably figured out a while ago.

I’m scared to love again.

He kisses my cheek gently. “If you want kids, we’ll figure it out—adoption, surrogacy, whatever. If you don’t, that’s fine too. Anything else holding us back?”

“I don’t know.” The fact that I’m terrified isn’t enough for him.

“When you’re ready, you know where to find me.” I can feel his smile against my neck. “I’m right here.”

Chapter seventeen

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