Page 117 of My Unfinished Heart

I shake my head.

“I just want her to like me.”

“Shouldn’t you be more concerned about whether I like you?”

To which he gives me the most exasperated look. “Please. You’re like—besotted with me.”

I smile at him. “You’re ridiculous. And everyone likes you. You’re an actual angel.”

“Oh, shut up. But yes, I’m fucking nervous. She’s West’s mother.”

“West? Really? That’s what this is about?”

“What if she thinks I’m a manipulative man-whore?”

I laugh out loud, the statement blowing away at least half the cloud of West’s betrayal.

“She doesn’t know about that. Seriously, is that really why you’re nervous?”

“No.” He takes another in a series of very deep breaths. “I’m nervous because this is important to me.”

I’m flattered, but also profoundly grateful.

“And not everyone likes me,” he adds. “Some people think I’m annoying.”

“Well, Helen’s gonna love you.” I pinch his cheek and give him a big smack on the lips.

He smiles, eyes shining. “Before we go inside, tell me something good. Good like optimistic, not like a compliment.”

“I just did. If it didn’t seem like it, it’s because I have trouble with optimism.”

Giving my hand a squeeze he says, “You’re actually the most optimistic person I know.”

“You don’t think I’m cynical?”

He hugs me with all his pent up anxiety, inhaling deeply of my shirt. “I think hope shines like a light inside you.”

I blink. Many times. My forehead furrows. “I thought I was supposed to say the good thing.”

Pulling away, but not too far, he gives me half a smile. “You’re off the hook, I guess. I just needed a hug. I’m ready.”

I adjust the semi in my shorts. “Now I need a second.”

He laughs, but we spent every second of yesterday and the majority of today all over each other. I’ve never had this much sex in my life, and my dick is operating on a hair-trigger.

“Take some deep breaths. Think about mowing the lawn or something.”

“I do need to mow the lawn,” I say on a long inhalation. I close my eyes and give myself a moment where I’m not thinking about Tristan’s nipple rings or his tongue or his perfect ass. “Do I need to get a dog? It’s a lot of lawn for not a lot of activity.”

“What kind of dog would you get?”

“I don’t know. A big one.”

“You seem like more of a cat person.”

“You think?”

“Mmhm.”