I pick up my pace, straining my muscles in the chilly morning air.
Last night was the first night in over a year that I felt . . . at peace. It was even better than the other two nights I’ve slept with Emma in my arms, but for once, there was no doubt. Unease. There weren’t any questions in my mind of what I could have done better, of how I could have saved my relationship, how I could have possibly helped Sadie during the miscarriage. I never once thought about the baby we created, if it was a boy or a girl. The nursery didn’t call my name; it didn’t sit like an anvil of “what ifs” on my chest. And I didn’t have an urge to bolt out of the house I bought for Sadie, to flee from the giant reminder of what I lost. Instead, I spent my night tangled next to an exquisite woman who graced me with her beautiful heart and showered me with her irresistible cuteness in those goddamn pajamas.
Fuck, I like those things. I like her. I like her a lot and I think that’s what terrifies me. For the first time in so long, I’m not pining for the girl I always thought I’d marry. The woman of my past.
I pause and run my hands through my hair.
Emma. I want to be with her. I want to hold her, make dinner with her, listen to fucking New Direction while she giggles in my arms. I want to wear matching lobster oven mitts and high five over shitty soup. I want her for her quirks, her smile, her beautiful brain, and her loving and caring heart.
“Shit,” I mutter, turning back toward the house.
“Here Comes the Sun” by The Beatles plays on my phone, acting almost as an epiphany as I sprint-run back to the house with one thought on my mind: Emma.
Little darling, it’s been a long cold lonely winter. Little darling, it feels like years since it’s been here . . .
Here comes the sun . . .
***
I slam the side door shut, tear off my phone strap and toss it on the counter along with my earbuds, and head toward the stairs when I see Emma’s light on in her bedroom. She’s not a morning person, why is she up?
I open the door to her bedroom, startling her in place. She’s wearing her pajama top and thong, and that’s it. Her hair is a mess like always in the morning, which makes me smile until I see her red-rimmed eyes and tear-stained face.
“Hey, what’s wrong?” I start toward her, but she puts up her hand.
“Please just leave me alone, Tucker.”
“To hell I will.” Not allowing her any space, I come up in front of her, grip her cheeks, and wipe away the tears on her face. “What’s wrong, Emma?”
She shakes her head and presses her hands on my sweat-soaked shirt. “I don’t need your pity, Tucker.”
“Pity? What the fuck are you talking about?”
She takes a look at me, actually takes me all in and bites on her bottom lip for a second. “You . . . you went for a run?”
“Yeah. I run every morning. What the hell is going on?” Her face flushes and I slowly start to connect the dots. Surely she wouldn’t think . . .
“Did you think I just got up and left?”
She looks away, clearly embarrassed. “Maybe.”
I can’t stop the chuckle that pops out of me. Outraged from the humor I find in the situation, she shoves my chest and says, “It’s not funny. What am I supposed to think? I woke up and you were gone. I came downstairs to see if you were making eggs and you weren’t here. I assumed you regretted everything and tried to get the hell out of here.” She points to the open suitcase on the bed and adds, “I was going to start packing to make it less awkward.”
“Yeah, and where were you going to go with that little suitcase of yours?” I wrap my arms around her waist and pull her into my body.
Trying to save face, she lifts her chin and says, “Logan’s. He would have taken me in.”
That doesn’t sit well with me. “To hell you would go there.”
She sighs heavily. “He doesn’t—”
“He sure as fuck does. He’s just waiting to make his move. He needs to know you’re off limits.”
“You don’t own me.”
I laugh and tip her chin. “That’s cute, Emma.” I lean forward and kiss along her jaw until I reach her ear. “Pretty sure last night I owned every last inch of you.”
She tilts her head to the side and lets out a long breath. “That means nothing.” Nothing? I don’t think so.
I bite on her earlobe and palm her ass at the same time. “It means everything, baby. Now come take a shower with me.”
Not giving her a chance to protest, I link her hand with mine and bring her into the bathroom. I tear my shirt off over my head and lean into the shower where I turn it on, letting the water heat up. When I turn back to Emma, she seems nervous by the way she’s fidgeting her hands in front of her.
“What’s wrong?”
She shrugs and fidgets with the waistband of my briefs that are peeking past my running pants. “The lights are on. You’re going to see all of me.”
“So? My tongue was all over your body last night, are you really going to be shy now?”
“It was dark, you couldn’t see any, you know, weird lumps and whatnot.” Does the girl not know how fucking gorgeous she is?
“Babe, I can guarantee there are no weird lumps. Now stop being ridiculous and take a shower with me.” She still looks uncertain, shy, which is so odd to me given what we did last night. “Emma, it’s me. There is nothing you should be shy about.”
“I know, but it is you, Tucker. I never in a million years would have thought you and I would have shared a night like last night.”
I tilt my head to the side. “Are you having second thoughts about last night?” My gut churns from the thought of her regretting everything we did. Call me a dick, but it never crossed my mind that Emma would feel remorse about what we did. Seeing her with tears in her eyes, thinking I had left her, actually gives me confidence. She wants us. How could she think I didn’t want her to stay? That . . . that I can’t leave her. Nor want her to go . . .
She shakes her head, easing the twisting in my stomach. “No, I don’t have any regrets.”
I cup her face and press a light kiss against her lips. “Good, because neither do I. In fact, I want a repeat.” My hands go to her shirt where I start to unbutton it. She assists me as well, starting from the bottom and once we have them all undone, I shove the fabric off her shoulders and watch it float to the floor before I take her all in.
I run my hand over my jaw, standing there in her red thong that does nothing to cover her up. Her breasts are marked from my scruff, beard burn trails over her body from where my mouth was last night, and lucky for me, her nipples are already puckered, ready to be sucked into my mouth.