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I take my time, pressing the soft wool of his slacks into his legs.

I wind myself tighter with every second.

I find nothing.

No side arm. No weapon of any kind. That’s not what I expect. That’s not like him at all.

My eyes go to his. “You were bluffing.”

He nods.

“You never bluffed when we were together.”

“And you never showed up with a gun in your purse,” he says.

“Of course I did,” I say.

A smile breaks his stoic expression. Of course you did. “I guess neither one of us was fully honest.”

Of course.

Back then, he was my loving boyfriend, not my adversary.

This is a different side of him.

One I want to learn inside and out.

No matter what it costs me.

Chapter

Twelve

JAMIE

In the kitchen, I make myself comfortable, while he preps. I sit on one of the stools, watching him pull food from the fridge.

For a second, I almost believe in this vision of domestic bliss.

A world where I can collapse in his arms and say baby, I’m exhausted. I almost lost a fight today. Will you hold me so I can settle into the fact I’m still alive?

Of course, since he’s marked for death, we can’t live in that future.

But it’s nice to imagine anyway.

“What do you think it would have been like, if we lived together?” I ask.

“That would be unwise, for a woman in your position,” he says.

“Would you do it though?” I ask.

“Are you asking me to move in with you?” he deadpans.

Of course, I’m being ridiculous. He knows I’m not here for some normal vision of romance.

Still—

I can’t seem to move on. “What if I am?”