• • •

I’m not sure if sex is supposed to make you feel like you’ve just lost a part of yourself to the person inside you, but that’s exactly what it felt like. It felt as if the second we joined together, a tiny piece of our souls got confused and a piece of his fell into me and a piece of mine fell into him. It was by far the single most intense moment I’ve ever shared with another person.

I feel a warmth creeping up my face like I want to cry, but I keep the tears at bay. I just know that there’s no way I can tell him goodbye after this. It’ll tear me apart, way worse than last year. I can’t go another day without him being a part of my everyday life. Not after this.

His arm is wrapped around me, and even though it’s been several minutes and he’s already been to the bathroom and crawled back into bed, he’s still breathing like he was just inside me a matter of seconds ago. I like this part of sex, I think. The aftermath. The quiet. Still feeling connected after the physical connection is no longer there.

His lips meet my shoulder—the scarred one—and he places the gentlest kiss against my skin. So soft and thought out, it feels like so much more than just a kiss. It feels like a promise, and I’d give anything to be able to read his mind right now.

“Fallon,” he whispers, pulling me closer to his side. “You know all those romance novels you made me read for research?”

“I only made you read five. The others were of your own accord.”

He runs his nose along my jawline until his lips are at my ear. “Well,” he continues, “I was thinking about some of the things those guys say when they’re with a girl. The ones we said we’d never say? Like when a guy tells a girl he owns her? I know we’ve laughed about it before, but . . . holy shit.” He pulls back and holds me captive with an intense stare. “I’ve never wanted to say anything like I wanted to say those things to you while I was inside you. It took everything I had not to.”

I never thought a sentence could make me whimper, but it absolutely does. “If you did . . . I wouldn’t have asked you to stop.”

He drags his lips across my cheek until he reaches my mouth. “I’m not saying those things to you until you really are mine.” He wraps his arms around me, cradling me against him, begging me without words for whatever it is he’s not saying. I can feel it. The desperation.

“Fallon,” he says, his words strained against his throat. “I don’t want to say goodbye to you when we wake up.”

His words carve a hole right in the center of my heart. “You’ll have my phone number this time. You can call me.”

“Every single day?” he asks, hopeful.

“I’ll be mad if you don’t.”

“Twice a day?”

I laugh.

“Can I see you every day?”

I shake my head, because that one isn’t really possible. “That’ll be kind of expensive,” I say to him.

“Not if I live in the same city as you.”

My smile immediately disappears. Not because that sounds unappealing. But because that’s not an innocent remark. People can’t just threaten to move across the country for someone if they don’t actually mean it.

I swallow the lump in my throat. “What are you saying, Ben?”

He rolls onto his side again and props his head up on his hand. “I’m thinking about selling the house, if Ian is okay with it. According to Jordyn’s mother, she’s moving back home. Kyle is gone. Ian is never even here. The only person I want to be near lives in New York. I wonder what she would think if I moved there.”

I can’t believe we’re having this conversation. As much as I know we need to talk about this without the rush of sex clouding our minds, I can’t think of anything I want more than to see him every day. To have him be a part of my life.

Except for one small detail.

“What about the book?” I ask him. “We’re supposed to meet up three more times. Don’t you want to finish it?”

He contemplates my question for a short moment before slowly shaking his head. “No,” he says simply. “Not if it means we can’t be together.” His expression doesn’t falter.

He’s serious. He actually wants to move to New York. And I want him there more than I’ve ever wanted anything.

“You’re gonna need a jacket.”

His smile transforms his entire face. He reaches a hand up to my cheek and traces my jaw, brushing his thumb over my lips. “And they lived happily ever after.”

• • •

Yesterday evening when he opened the door and I saw him for the first time in a year, I could see the pain in every single aspect of him. It was like the death of his brother aged him five years.

But right now, he looks somewhat like he did the first time I saw him. Unkempt and scruffy. Adorable. Beautiful. It’s the most at peace I’ve seen him since I arrived.

I kiss him lightly on the cheek and roll off the bed without waking him. I put on my clothes and slip out of his bedroom, heading downstairs to see if there’s any cleaning I can do before I wake him up to say goodbye.

It’s almost four in the morning. The last thing I expect is to see someone in the kitchen, but Jordyn is seated at the bar.

She looks up at me as soon as I walk in. Her eyes are red and puffy, but she’s not crying. She’s got an entire box of pizza in front of her and she’s taking a huge bite out of a slice of pepperoni.

I feel bad for walking in on her. Based on my conversation with Ben, she’s wanted nothing but solitude the last couple of days. I debate walking back to Ben’s room to give her privacy. She must see my hesitation, because she scoots the box toward me.

“You hungry?” she asks.

I kind of am. I take a seat next to her and grab a slice of pizza. We sit together in silence until she finishes a second slice. She stands and takes the box of pizza to the refrigerator. She hands me a soda when she returns to the bar. “So you’re the girl Ben’s writing the book about?”

I pause the can at my lips, shocked she knows about it. No one else at the dinner table seemed to know anything about his book. I nod again and then take a drink.

She forces a smile and looks down at her hands, laced together on the bar in front of her. “He’s a great writer,” she says. “I think the book is going to be huge for him. It’s a clever idea.”