“Fuck, this was a bad idea,” I groan.
“Why?” She pauses midway to the bed.
“Because I’m going to be dealing with a raging fucking boner all night,” I tell her.
“I don’t remember you having such a filthy mouth.” She smiles as she continues to approach the bed before climbing in on the opposite side.
“I did. I just controlled my filth around you,” I admit.
Jazzy lies down and rolls over to face me. I copy her, pulling the blanket up over us both. “Do you think it’s been too long?” she asks.
“Too long for what?”
“Us? Are we just strangers now?”
“Love doesn’t have an expiration date, Jazzy.” My hand reaches up to her face, my fingers brushing her hair away and tucking it behind her ear. “I think if anything, I love you more today than I did yesterday and the day before that.”
“But we don’t really know each other anymore,” she says.
“I know you better than I know myself. I know that you’re the most kind-hearted person I’ve ever met. I know that you’re the single most-beautiful thing I’ve ever seen. I know that you are good, like pure fucking goodness.”
“I’m not that good, Jake. I killed a man…”
“You defended yourself. That’s not the same,” I remind her.
“Do you think the time is ever going to be right for us?”
“I’m working on making sure the time for us happens real soon.” I’m going to give it everything I have to make sure she’s mine, once and for all. “I promise I won’t quit until it’s safe for you to change your last name.”
“Why would I change my name?” Jazzy’s brows draw down.
“When we get married, when you become Mrs. Westmead.” I smile.
“Well, at least my dad won’t shoot you at the altar anymore. For some reason, he is suddenly on Team Jacob.” Jazzy smiles back at me. “I’m not questioning his moment of what is likely temporary insanity.”
“Let’s not,” I agree.
Jazzy laughs, and the sound goes right to my fucking heart.
Chapter Nineteen
Iroll over, my arm reaches across the bed to find cold emptiness, and my heart sinks. It’s like prom night all over again. Sitting up, I scan the room. It’s dark, other than the small light peeking out from the open bathroom door.
Then I hear something banging around. Pots and pans. I get up and head to the bathroom. After freshening up and running my fingers through my hair, I walk out to the kitchen, following the sound and the smell.
I smile when I find Jake standing at the stove. Shirtless and wielding an egg flipper. This is a sight I could really get used to.
“You’re making pancakes?” I ask, not being able to keep the joy out of my tone. I love pancakes. If I could eat them for three meals a day, I would.
“Chocolate chip and blueberry,” Jake confirms as his gaze settles on me.
“Delicious. They smell so good.” I walk over and peek into the frying pan. There’s already a stack of each on a plate. “Are you expecting visitors?”
“No.”
“That’s a lot of pancakes, Jake,” I tell him.
“They’re your favorite. I wanted you to have enough,” he says.