She pushed forward and pressed a soft kiss to the corner of my mouth before leaving me to overthink and wallow in my own self-pity.

Liam cleared his throat, breaking me out of my reverie. “You didn’t have to give me so much detail, bro. Damn. Believe it or not, I don’t want to know how Alexis tastes.”

I growled, my possessive side slamming to the forefront while Liam held up his hands with a raucous chuckle.

“Look, Owen, your past isn’t just going to disappear. You and Alexis have a lot of history, so there’s bound to be some hiccups along the way. But when the struggle is worth it, when you push through those hard times, the good times end up even better. You get me?”

“I just… I don’t want to lose her again, Liam. I can’t.”

“I know, bro. When was that date?”

“Last weekend.”

“No date this weekend then?”

“She’s visiting her sister,” I said, deflated. The more distance she put between us, the more paranoid I got. I had a full tank of gas at the ready, just in case she needed me for anything. I’d be ready to leave in a heartbeat.

“Give her some time. Let her have a breather away. I think it will be good… for both of you.”

I nodded in agreement. He was right; it wasn’t something that could be forced. And if I wanted what I hoped for most—our forever—we’d have to work towards that together.

Switching my phone off, I took a deep breath, knowing that if I kept it on, there was no way I wouldn’t be glued to it all night.

Give her a breather. Give her time. Give her space.

Alexis will come back to me, I repeated in my head. If only it numbed the strain in my heart from the gaping unknown.

Chapter 28

ALEXIS

As I got ready to meet Owen for our late night date, Austin called out from his bed. Squeezing under the covers, I snuggled into my son. “What are you doing up, sleepy boy?”

“A noise woke me up.”

I stroked his hair as his eyes fluttered closed. I thought he had fallen back asleep when his drowsy voice carried in the dark.

“Were you and Owen married, Mama?”

“Yes, sleepy boy.”

I was surprised it took him that long to start asking questions. My four-year-old was an intelligent know-it-all, and I fully expected the inquisition that was inevitably coming. But I supposed nothing could have fully prepared me for his childlike candour.

“Like Nanny and Papa are married?”

“Yes, sleepy boy.”

“Does that mean we will live with Owen and he will be my daddy?”

“No, sleepy boy.”

“Oh.” Yawn. “He’s really nice though. And fun. And he brings oranges to soccer for us to eat.”

“Yes, sleepy boy.”

“He would be a good daddy.”

“Yes, sleepy boy.”