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"Madly."
"Then do what needs to be done."
"I…have started to trust him, but I'm waiting for him to stop coming because it's too hard. And I feel like a shite because of it. I can't keep doing this."
"Doing what?" Art picked up his glass and drank some wine.
"Testing him to see when he'll fuck up, when he'll give up. I knew I'd miss him like crazy when he told me couldn't make it last Sunday, but a part of me was thinking, well, this is the beginning of the end. Hope you enjoyed the ride while it lasted." I was disgusted with myself for not loving this man with my whole heart. He was all in. Bloody hell, he wanted babies.
Art put his hand on mine and squeezed. "This will sound like a bad Hallmark movie line, but I got to ask you: what does your heart say?"
I quirked an eyebrow. "That does sound like a corny line from a cheesy movie."
Art grinned. "You know me, I'm a fan of those small-town holiday romances."
"What if he leaves me?" I asked. The fear of that was there, right below the surface.
"I won't," Rowan said from behind me.
Art winked at me. The son of a bitch knew Rowan was listening to us.
"Hey, Rowan." Art got up and gave Rowan a quick hug. He kissed my forehead, filled his glass with more wine, and took the glass. "I'll bring it back next time."
"It's your glass; keep it," I suggested as he opened my front door.
Rowan took Art’s place beside me.
"I'm sorry I fell asleep."
"You're completely knackered, Rowan."
"I know. I just need a good night's sleep, and then I'll be good as new."
I worried my lower lip between my teeth. "You know I start a new job in January."
"Yeah."
"Ah…I was thinking of taking time off between Thanksgiving and Christmas. You know, a break."
"That's a good plan. Get some rest before you start a new job." He stroked my arm as we talked. He always touched me when he was close. He'd hold my hand, wrap an arm around me, kiss my forehead, my cheek, my lips.
"And I was thinking maybe Flora and I could spend that time with you in Montana," I hurriedly said before I lost my nerve.
He looked like someone punched him in the solar plexus, and then, slowly, his face was wreathed in the biggest smile. He took my hands in his and kissed them reverently.
"Yeah? You and Flora want to come to Ledger Ranch?" His voice was hoarse, and I was shocked to see tears in his eyes.
I wiped them as they rolled down his face. "Hey," I whispered.
He kneeled down in front of me, and rested his forehead on my lap. I hugged him and rested my cheek against his head.
"You always give me more than I deserve."
That night, we made love slowly, sweetly, gently.
I lay awake after he fell asleep, wondering if I was making a big mistake. I was going back to where it all began, where it all ended. But I had to do this to see if this was real. If we saw each other every day and were in each other's space, would it work?
The relationship we had six years ago was nothing like what we had now. That was infatuation, lust, and love wrapped into one another. Now, we were older in so many ways, softer, and rounded in our experiences. What we had now was real. Our souls had connected the last time, this time, our minds had as well.
