“It meant something to you, didn’t it? Me? My book? Last night wasn’t just—”

It took less than a second to get from the door to Nora’s bedside. Zach took her face in his hands and, careful of her bruises, kissed her with the passion of a man who knew the next woman he kissed would be the only woman he’d kiss for the rest of his life.

“Yes,” he said, breathlessly. “It meant something.”

Nora nodded. “You’re still my editor, right?”

“Always.”

“I have an idea for a new book. But I’ll need your help.”

Zach touched the unbruised side of her face.

“Just remember, show, don’t tell.” He winked at her.

Nora laughed again, her wicked, dirty, perfect laugh.

“How much are they paying you for this?”

* * *

The drive home from the hospital felt interminable. Wesley didn’t speak and Nora was afraid to shatter the silence. He pulled into their driveway. She got out of the car and felt a sudden wave of dizziness as the painkiller the nurse gave her kicked in when she stood up too fast. She thought she was about to go down, but then Wesley had her in his arms and carried her into the house.

“You shouldn’t have left the hospital.” Wesley set her on the couch.

“I’ve left AMA before. You have to or they’ll start calling in for psych evaluations and other shit you don’t need.”

“You sure you don’t need one?”

“I had a feeling that deep down you thought I was actually crazy,” Nora said.

Wesley sat in the chair next to the couch. He leaned back and covered his face with his hands.

“I’d like to think you weren’t in your right mind when you did this to me.”

Nora leaned back into the couch cushions. Every breath she took hurt, but not from the pain in her ribs.

“I didn’t do it to you,” she said. “I did it for you.”

“That makes no sense, Nora.”

“You promised me you’d leave me if I went back to Søren. Leaving me is the best thing for you to do.”

“You want me go?” he asked, his voice soft with shock.

“No. Never.” She hated the look of relief on his face. “But I need you to. I can’t keep you anymore.”

Wesley ran his hands through his hair. His face was red, his eyes rimmed with unshed tears. “Let me keep you then.”

“No, sweetheart, I can’t. I—”

“Do you love me?”

“Wesley, it’s not morning until you’re awake. And it’s not night until you’re asleep in your bed under my roof. And I could go on and on but hope is a horrible thing, and I love you too much to give you any. I need you to do something for me.”

“Anything,” Wesley said. “Everything.”

“Please,” she begged. “Keep your promise.”