“Should we go in?” she asks, peering up at him. A lock of hair falls across her face.
“Yeah.” He adjusts her small hand in his. Somewhere along the way here, they unlinked arms, linked fingers.
“If I make it past ten, I’ll be surprised,” she observes, looking up to the moon.
He palms her stomach, murmurs, “We do surprises best, don’t we?”
Her cheeks flush and her long lashes lower. “Yeah,” she agrees, smiling bright, like they have the best secret in the world. “We do.”
He holds her gaze for a long moment. His heart is going to explode out of his chest. Then he clears the boulder from his throat. “C’mon, Pregnant Woman.”
Clasping her hand tight, he leads her to the hostess stand, and after Tessie confirms her reservation, they enter the pavilion. At the front of the room, a band plays on the small stage. High-tops decorated with vases of flowers, with reserved signs, are spread out across the floor. Servers pass cocktails and tapas.
“Oh my God,” Tessie squeaks, tugging on his arm. “This is giving me millennial prom vibes. Oh! Here’s our table,” she says, setting her clutch on a high-top with a RESERVED—TRUELOVE sign. “Oh my God, look at that chandelier!”
He chuckles when she lets out a second gasp and releases his hand to take in the scene. Winding through guests with her rounded belly, she glows. She grins as she watches the band, examines the flowers, runs a hand down the linens and steals a canapé from a tray.
This is the girl he met back in that bar. Funny, sweet, always down for a good time. But the other side of her, the one he’s gotten to know over the last week? Icy, ballsy, and brazen. Brave. A fighter. For her and her son. He loves that side too. That hard shell of hers is just that—a shell. To protect herself because she can’t stand to have one more thing walk away from her. And Solomon knows how it feels.
A rustling of sound has him turning. A nearby server admires Tessie. And why wouldn’t he? Her beauty casts its spell over everyone in her orbit. When he notices Solomon’s eyes on him, the man adjusts the tray in his hands. Giving a small bow of acknowledgment, he says, “Your wife’s beautiful, se?or.”
A knot tightens in his throat. Only rectified when he says, “She is.”
Stop. Stop looking at her like she’s yours.
Why not, Sol? She is.
It hits him then, hits him hard.
He wants her to be his.
And he doesn’t just want to be in his son’s life. He wants to be in Tessie’s. Wants to be Tessie’s. Because she’s his. She and Bear, they’re both his.
The night at the Bear’s Ear bar cemented it.
His second life began the night he met Tessie.
He just didn’t know it until now.
Solomon’s stomach dips, a familiar sensation settling in his gut as the realization winds itself around him and won’t let go. His heart is ticking like a bomb.
Fuck.
He loves her.
He loves this woman who’s carrying his child. Not because of that, but in spite of it.
He knew he was falling for Tess, knew it was fast, but nothing prepared him for this.
It wasn’t part of the plan.
And now. . .
Now he’s going to do everything he can to keep her.
Moving gracefully, swaying near the stage, Tessie places a palm on the low swell of her stomach, and Solomon’s heart hitches.
Everything right there, he can’t live without.
Dance with her Sol.
Serena’s spirit hovers. Nagging, cursing him.
Dance with her or someone else will.
Dance with her or I will.
For a long second, he scrubs his hands over his face and swears, assaulted by guilt. Guilt because he never danced with Serena to that old jukebox in Howler’s Roost. How he sat on the sidelines, arms crossed, grunting, letting her have fun without him.
Second chance. New chance.
He can do better than he did with Serena.
A drum beats in his chest as he strides across the open space. When he reaches Tess, he cups her elbow. She turns, her beautiful face surprised—eyes shining, mouth an O—then she smiles.
“Dance with me,” he says.
She arches a brow. “I thought you didn’t dance.”
“With you, I do.”
Then he snags her hand and leads her onto the dance floor, where they melt into a small crowd of slow-swaying dancers.
“You’re not so bad,” she murmurs. The soft light illuminates the delicate features of her pretty profile. “I think you lied about having two left feet.”
He peers down at her. Holding her in his arms feels so goddamn perfect. “Think I was nervous about the beautiful woman baptizing the bar floor with chardonnay,” he replies.
She socks his arm, laughs.
“Think we were both pretending to be people we weren’t,” Tessie muses after a second.
“Maybe. But I liked the girl I met that night. I still do.”
Her eyes widen at his admission. “I like you too, Solomon.” A shy flush storms her cheeks. “I like your flannel. I like your grunts and your handsome beard. I like everything about you.”
Fuck. If he thought he was done for before, he really is now.
“Are you frowning or scowling?” She palms his cheek. The touch of her singes. A rush of heat to his nether regions has him squirming. “It’s just really hard to tell.”
He laughs. “I’m smiling, Tessie.”
“You are?” She reaches up to trace the edge of his lips, his beard, with a delicate finger. “Hmm. A smile. I must have done something right, Solemn Man.”
He drops one hand to palm her stomach. “You’re doing everything right. You’re perfect.”
“Sometimes I don’t know about that,” she says with a humorless laugh.
He shakes his head. “Tess, we’re in this together. You’re not doing this alone. And whether or not you believe me, I’ll show you. I’ll prove it.”
She lifts a slender shoulder. They’ve stopped in the middle of the dance floor. “All I believe in is Bear.”
“That’s a good thing to believe in.”
“I don’t want to let him down.”
“You won’t. Hey.” He touches her chin, hating the sad look on her face. “I’m not here to make your life harder. Or take him away. I’m here to help. To stay and be a good dad to Bear.”
His stomach knots as her big brown eyes spear him. Slowly, she slides a hand up his chest to rest over the space of his heart. The heat of her hand radiating through his shirt. And he burns. Solomon burns in all the best ways a man can burn. Raw. Alive. In love.
“That’s. . .the only reason you’re staying?”
It’s hard to breathe. Caught up in her question, what she’s really asking him.
Say it. Say it fucking now.
Say that Bear isn’t the only reason he’s staying. That nothing matters except waking up in bed next to her. That he doesn’t know what this is between them, but he’s not ready for it to end. Not yet. Not ever.
Say that he loves her.
Sol, take a shot in the dark and tell her.
He moves closer, capturing her face in his hands. “Tess, listen. . .”
“Yes?” she whispers, her molten eyes locked on him.
“Tessie, baby, I—”
“Well, howdy. Ain’t we so happy to see y’all here!”
Solomon’s stomach plummets, his late-night confession gone up in smoke. He drags his attention from the girl in his arms to the intrusive source of the nasally drawl.
Fuck.
Rick and Roni Zebrowski stand across from them, ready to wreak chaos.
Tessie hides a smirk at the sight of Solomon’s what-the-fuck expression, the way a rumble of a growl builds in his chest and how he works his jaw back and forth as Rick and Roni follow them back to their high-top. “We had the hardest time rustlin’ up a table. Mind if we join you?” Without waiting for an answer, Roni drops her sequin purse on the table with a clatter.
“You had a hard time,” Solomon says through gritted teeth, “because Tessie planned ahead and made reservations.”
Placing a hand on Solomon’s arm, Tessie conjures up the placid smile she gives clients when they ask her to design burial chambers for their pets. “Feel free to join us,” she offers. “We’re not staying long.”