“Sure, buddy.” Levi ruffled his hair. “Go check off swim therapy on your chart and then grab it.”
Levi poured some wine for us, and I sat at the island while he prepared dinner. Watching him move easily in his kitchen, managing several tasks at once, turned me on so much I had to cross my legs. Put those thoughts away, I told myself. That is not why you’re here, and it’s not happening tonight. But part of me understood why Levi always wanted to meet out or at my house—when we only got to see each other once a week, we wanted to do more than look.
But this was a different kind of night.
It was the kind of night that made me feel good in other ways—I felt a part of something. I felt the love between Levi and his son. I felt the effort Levi was making to show me there was a place for me in his life, a place for the love we shared. And I felt even more respect and admiration for him as a father, understood better the weight that being Scotty’s only parent placed on him, as well as the joy it brought him.
When dinner was over, I insisted on helping with the dishes, and when they were loaded and the food put away, Levi told Scotty he could have some extra playtime while he showed me the house.
My heart beat faster at the thought of being alone with him, even though I knew we couldn’t have sex.
Which was why I got the wind knocked out of me when Levi shut his bedroom door behind us and caged me against it, crushing his lips to mine.
I gave up on breathing and kissed him back, my body straining against his.
“I fucking want you so badly right now,” he whispered. “You have no idea.”
“Uh, yes I do,” I said as he wedged one thigh between my legs. “Believe me.”
“I’m sorry we have to wait.”
“It’s OK, really.”
“God, Jillian.” He shook his head, his eyes serious. “Tell me we’re OK. Tell me I didn’t fuck this up. I’m so sorry.”
“We’re OK,” I said. “This is what I wanted. To know what it was like to be here with you.”
He let my arms drop and gathered me against him. “I love you here with me. With us. I thought being a good father meant I had to deny this part of myself, but it wasn’t true. I had to accept it, without fear or reservation. I want Scotty to see what love looks like, all kinds of love.”
I locked my hands behind his back. “Scotty is so sweet.”
“He is. He’s also having a very good day. A good week, actually. It does get harder than this.”
I slapped him lightly on the butt. “Such a pessimist.”
“I’m serious. You need to know that.”
“I know. I’m teasing you. And it’s OK—we all have good days and bad. Nothing and no one is perfect.”
“I love you.” He kissed my head.
“I love you too.”
? ? ?
When it got close to nine, I saw that Scotty was getting tired and knew how important it was that he get to bed at the regular time. Levi helped me with my coat, threw his on as well, and walked me to my car. Snowflakes were starting to fall.
“So what will you do for Christmas?” he asked. “Do you go to your mom’s?”
“Usually,” I said, shivering. “Ooh, it’s cold. But this year we’re going to a party at the winery where Skylar works on Christmas Eve, and then to my mom’s on Christmas Day for dinner. What about you? Heading up to Charlevoix?”
He nodded and wrapped his arms around me to keep me warm. “Yes,” he said, dropping a kiss on the tip of my nose. “And you are invited to come to brunch there on Christmas morning.”
“Really?”
He laughed. “I love how that lit you up.”
“Well, that’s exciting for me, to meet your family. I want you to meet mine, too. You and Scotty.”
“That would be nice,” he said.
“Could you…could you maybe stop by the winery on Christmas Eve?” I asked hopefully. “It would be so nice to see you that night.”
“I wish I could,” he said, “but I think my mother would kill me. Now you better go, before you get frostbite out here.”
“OK.” I tried not to feel too disappointed. Being invited to Christmas Day brunch was amazing, and I couldn’t wait to tell my sisters.
We kissed goodnight, and he opened the car door for me. “Drive carefully, OK? I’ll talk to you tomorrow.”
“I will. I love you.”
He smiled. “I love you too.”
? ? ?
Life got a little hectic in the days before Christmas, and we didn’t get another chance to see each other before he had to leave for Charlevoix, although we spoke every day. He called me on his way up.
“Are you getting ready for the party?” he asked.
“Yes,” I said, hunting around for the right earrings for my dress. “I wish you were coming with me.” It was our first Christmas Eve as a couple, and we had to spend it apart. I was trying not to feel sad about that.
“I know. I’m sorry. My mom is all insistent that Christmas Eve is for family.”
That made my heart ache a little. “I get it.”
“Well, listen. I better go. Roads aren’t great and it’s getting dark. You have fun tonight and call me in the morning when you’re heading out. You have directions and the address, right?”