I don’t even know how to tell Bridger about his mother’soffer. Could he ever forgive her? Would I want him to try? We might need an entire encyclopedia on marital communication for that. But for now, he leads me to the library, and we sink onto the couch.Ourcouch. The first place I felt safe enough to fall asleep in his arms.
He kisses my forehead, and I know I’m home.
Even if we have to move out of here soon.
The most important thing we need to clarify tonight is how much he’s giving up for me. He’s leaving the entirety of his old life behind, with no promises he’ll ever be invited back. He says he doesn’t want certainty. That he wants me.
But even with answers from genetic testing, my future isn’t promised.
He’d be giving up his family inheritance for me. And what I’ve inherited from my family remains a big question mark. At least for now.
“How was your day?” he asks, and I drape my legs over his.
“Long. Good. Hard. Scary.”
“Don’t be scared,” he says.
“Can’t help it. It’s the factory setting I came with.”
“We can work on that.” He lays a hand on my knee and squeezes. “And for the record, I’m ready to fight her. Say the word, and I’ll never give up fighting. Or we can walk away and make that our battle. Whatever you decide, Loren. Name the dragon, and I’ll slay it for you.”
“All the dragons are pretty terrifying,” I say with a shaky breath. “So many dragons.”
His hand drifts to mine. “I’ll keep you safe.”
“But there are things you can’t protect me from.” I swallow. “And vice versa.”
“Don’t underestimate?—”
The doorbell rings.
“You have got to be kidding me," I groan. “If your mom sent a funeral arrangement for our marriage, I might?—”
“Nope.” A smile finds his lips. “I really did order pizza this time.”
My stomach growls, right on cue, as we head to grab our dinner. Except it’s not the pizza guy on our doorstep.
It’s Rosalind.
Winthrop.
Barrington.
In the flesh.
I’ll spare you the effort of imagining what the woman looks like.
Goddess.
One word.
Done and done.
If you insist on more, I’ll ask you to picture long blonde hair on top of a long blonde body. Lithe. Willowy. Impeccably dressed. The total opposite of me in every way. Except for her smile, which is wide and friendly. I’d like to think I’m friendly too.
“Well, aren’t you lovely!” Rosalind says this to me as soon as the door flies open. “I definitely get teacher vibes. English, is it? You look like you teach English.”
“I do.” I tuck a strand of hair behind my ear and begin to fidget.