Getting Real (Getting Some #3)(78)

She takes a deep breath.

“Okay, I’m just going to ask and whatever your answer is . . . I need you to be honest with me, no matter what.”

“Of course.”

“Do you . . . do you have feelings for Stacey again?”

The shock of her question knocks me on my figurative ass.

“What?”

“I heard you and her talking in Aaron’s hospital room. I heard her promise that things are going to be different between you from now on. And then you told me to go home and sent your parents to stay with the boys. Are you . . . ”

Her dark eyes rise to mine—cracking my heart in two. Because she really believes that that’s possible.

“ . . . are you two reconciling?”

“No. God, no. I mean, she’s finally got her head on straight about the kids and I’m happy about that. It’s important that they have a good relationship with their mother. And she and I aren’t going to be at each other’s throats anymore; we talked it out and we both agreed. But that’s it, Violet, I swear. I haven’t had feelings for Stacey in a long time, and that hasn’t changed. At all.”

“Oh.” She nods slowly, her face slack. “Okay.”

Then she turns around, facing the wall. And a moment later, her shoulders quake, shuddering—as she sobs. She covers her mouth with her hand, shaking her head.

“Is that what you thought?” I ask.

“Yeah.” She hiccups.

I think about what that must’ve been like for her. I imagine what I would feel if I thought she was slipping away. And it’s like an invisible hand is crushing my insides, turning them to dust, leaving me achingly hollow.

“For how long?”

“A while.” Violet’s eyes are red and her lips swollen when she turns toward me. “I thought you might be here to break up with me tonight.”

“Jesus Christ.”

I pull her into my arms.

She comes easily, clasping herself against me, letting the tears flow.

And I think this could be about more than me and Stacey. She’s been so strong for me, for my boys—pushing through, keeping everything together—bottling up all that emotion. Keeping it locked up tight inside.

Until now.

I stroke my hand down her wet hair, the words tearing out of me.

“I’m so sorry, Violet. I didn’t want to take you for granted, I didn’t want to put everything on you. The only reason I told you to come back here—”

“No.” She shakes her head. “It’s not really anything you did. I just . . . I know how these things work sometimes. I’ve seen it with patients, with my parents. I know in real life, tragedies can bring—”

“You are my real life. I love you, Violet. I’m so in love with you, I can’t even see straight.”

I frame her face with my hands, looking into her eyes.

“You make me so happy, Vi. Happier than I’ve ever been—than I ever thought I could be. And all I want to do for the rest of our lives is make you as happy as you make me.”

She smiles through the tears. And it’s her real smile—the one that lights up her whole face and my entire world.

“I love you too, Connor. I’ve loved you for so long and that’s all I want to do, for the rest of our lives . . . is keep loving you.”

I pull her back against me, murmuring sweet, worshipful words. And we stay in the shower holding onto each other, rocking slowly, until the water runs cold.


*

Afterward, we lie quietly in her bed, naked and wrapped around each other, as close as two people can be. Her head rests on my chest, and I slide my fingers through her long damp hair, her bent knee resting on my stomach. It starts to rain outside, the pattering of the drops against the roof enshrouding us in their rhythm—making Violet’s room feel secret and warm.

“I want you to move in with me and the boys,” I tell her.

She nods without a moment of hesitation.

“Okay.”

“You can rent out your house or put it on the market, whatever you want.”

“I’ll sell it.”

“Are you sure?”

I cradle her head in my hands and I roll her under me. Violet spreads her legs, letting me settle between her thighs. I trace the bridge of her nose with my finger, teasing, “You could hold onto it . . . it could be our love shack.”

She laughs. And I will never not love that sound.

“I’m sure. It was always too small to be anything more than a starter home. And I’m ready to jump into this with you, with both feet.”

I swallow hard, shaken by how much I feel for her.

“God, I love you.”

Violet lifts her arms over her head, arching her back and lifting her hips, rubbing unabashedly and so fucking sweetly against me.

“Show me.”

And I do.





CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE


Connor


The first week of November, Aaron comes home from the hospital. He’ll be sleeping in the hospital bed we’ve set up for him in the living room, and he has lots of physical therapy ahead of him . . . but he’s expected to make a full recovery.

The following week, I go back to work. Violet went back earlier, but now that she’s living with us, we’re able to coordinate our schedules so one of us is always home with him—at least until he’s fully mobile again.