Love happened twice, and I have no regrets, even if the situation feels impossible, even if the looming decision makes me believe I will never survive it. As much as I fear the future, it isn’t going away until it shows me what I need to do.
I fell in love with two men and lost myself.
I’ll stay in love with one and find myself again.
I wake the next morning to find Trace staring down at me, shirtless, hair tousled, and blue eyes illuminated by the sunlight crashing rudely through the windows.
I groan. Too early. Need sleep.
Cole’s side of the bed is empty. Maybe it’s later than I thought. I peek at the clock on the nightstand.
6:57 AM. Seriously? Why can’t mornings happen after noon?
“Word of advice.” I roll over and bury my face in the pillow. “If you’re waking me, it better involve morning sex, coffee, or Beyoncé. Preferably all three.”
Trace yanks the pillow out from beneath me and flips me onto my back.
His dominant energy precedes him. He doesn’t even need to open his mouth to communicate his intention of controlling every breath I take today. His gorgeous face and steady glare kick my heart against my ribcage. Add to that, the memory of yesterday’s punishment, of his drugging kiss swirling with his bold masculine taste, and I could be coaxed out of bed. Or rather, into bed.
“Morning.” He smiles a barely-there smile that shines with more intensity than anyone should be capable of at this hour.
“You know what rhymes with morning?” I stretch, yawning. “Fuck off.”
He lifts a mug from the nightstand and brings it to his lips, sipping with a smirk.
Coffee! I lurch to my knees, reaching for his cup. He lets me have it, but a glance at the pitch-black contents has me passing it back with a grimace.
“You should know,” I say grumpily, “I totally judge you on the way you take your coffee, you un-creamy freakshow.”
“Someone left the bag of whiners open this morning.” He drinks the coffee, eyes dancing.
“You opened it,” I huff, “with your lack of creamer and flirty eyes and… Wait. You just made another joke.”
“Get up.” He stands and strides toward the closet, his crisp khaki slacks hanging deliciously low. “Your creamy coffee is waiting in the kitchen, princess. We have things to do.”
I tilt my head, watching him slide on a starched collared shirt. “Where are we going?”
“Walmart.” His fingers move deftly over the buttons. “We need groceries.”
An hour later, I sit in the front seat of Cole’s Range Rover as Trace drives along the winding road through the woods. Cole took the boat out to go fishing this morning, and I’ve yet to see him.
Slurping coffee from a travel mug, I watch Trace out of the corner of my eye. “Did Cole make himself scarce for a reason?”
“We’re dividing up our time with you.”
“Care to enlighten me on the schedule?”
“No.” He adjusts the heat controls, directing those captivating eyes at the road.
“Why not?”
“Because you’ll obsess over it.” He scratches his clean-shaved jaw, gaze straight ahead. “I only want you obsessing about one thing.”
I don’t need him to draw a picture. He wants me thinking of him and nothing else. I want that for him, too, and I hate myself for not being able to give it to him.
“Why are you putting yourself through this?” I stare at the windshield, voice quiet. “There are so many other ways to go about it, including not bothering with me at all.”
“If I don’t bother with you,” he says in a biting tone, “I shouldn’t bother pursuing anything in life.” His nostrils flare, and his hand clenches on the steering wheel. “Or maybe my heart is too stubborn for the kind of woman who thinks her lover shouldn’t fight for her.”
Oh, for Christ’s sake, I didn’t mean to piss him off. “That’s not what I’m saying.”
“Then do a better job of explaining yourself.”
Heat flushes my face. “You’re the type of man who doesn’t wait around for a woman to make decisions about your future. I’m just wondering why you’re not demanding I kick Cole to the curb. Or why you haven’t thrown me in your car, driven me back to your penthouse, and made the decision for me.”
“I refuse to force your hand on this.” His eyes, cold and hard, shift to me before returning to the road. “I’m patient, Danni. When you choose me, I want the realization clawing at your insides without coercion or doubt or the pressure of time. I want your heart to beat for me and only me, not because I command it, but because we’re meant to be.”
He wants pure, undeniable love. He deserves that and so much more.
An ache tightens my chest. “I’m afraid one day you’ll realize I wasn’t worth it.”
“I’m afraid one day you’ll ask me to leave.”
A vehement denial jumps to the tip of my tongue, but I trap it there. I can’t make promises I don’t know how to keep.
I used to think forever was the only thing I wanted. Then I met Trace, and my heart filled with tiny moments, each one worth so much more than the whole of a lifetime.
But how can I cherish every moment written with his touch while my veins continue to burn for Cole?
I don’t care if they orchestrated this arrangement. It feels like cheating, and the gravity of that is heavy enough to crush my bones. I can’t drag this out for six months. My sanity won’t survive it.
As if Trace senses my tension, he reaches over the console and rests a hand on my thigh. The heat of his palm penetrates my leggings, warming me, comforting me, until the anxiousness fades away.
“Tell me something about you.” I lace our fingers together. “A truth you never share with anyone.”
He slows the SUV at a cross street, the first one I’ve seen in the fifteen minutes we’ve been on the road. Veering right, he enters a small town, lined with run-down stores, a gas station, and lo and behold, a Walmart.
Without acknowledging my question, he motors toward the parking lot filled with a dozen or so cars. He parks toward the back of the lot, turns off the engine, and faces me.
“You know my parents died in a car accident.” He stares at our hands, where they intertwine on my lap.
“You said their deaths changed your perspective on life.”
“Yes. They were killed because of my job.”
“What?” I whisper as a chill spreads through me. “Why didn’t you tell me?”
“I can’t change what happened.” His eyes lift to mine, stark and unblinking. “And I can’t share the details.”
“I’m so sorry, Trace.” I cup his face, stroking my fingers through his soft blond hair.
“Don’t be sorry. If it hadn’t happened, I’d still be married to that job.”
I nod, mind racing. Were
his parents killed by an enemy nation state? Or an internal threat like the woman who threatened my life? The specifics are irrelevant. It’s what happened after that makes my throat swell.
“That’s why you agreed to watch over me when Cole left.” I rest my fingers on the sharp angles of his face.
“I didn’t want the same thing to happen to you.” He caresses my cheek, my jaw, my lips, the kiss of his touch jump-starting my heart.
“Cole knows how your parents died?”
“He’s one of the very few.”