Dean’s words from last night only caused more tears to roll down my cheeks. This level of connection had happened often in our support group—he would share one or two sentences, or I would share via my usual excited rambling. After finishing, our eyes would find each other from across the room, both of us seeking the comfort of a friend.

That safe space was often the only place where I was ever truly honest. It required a bravery and vulnerability that terrified me more than my current lightly packed way of life. And it was growing clear to me now that the moments between us when I’d pushed past the fear, been truly free with my emotions had created an intimacy more poignant than my worries.

“Alexis?”

“Mm-hmm?”

“I’m in love with Dean. I can’t believe I told you that having a crush on someone was the best feeling in the world when this sensation makes me feel like I could fly to the moon. I never, not once, had legitimate control over it.”

She nodded, laughing softly. “That’s true love right there.”

“I want to tell him. Need to tell him.” I pulled back from her to wipe my wet cheeks. “Nothing else matters—where he’s living or where I’m living or if our jobs take us all over or root us back home. Even if he doesn’t feel the same way”—a hole cracked open in my chest at the thought—“he deserves to know. Dean Knox-Morelli deserves to know how deeply he is loved. I want to find a way to apologize for turning away when I should have leapt into his arms. To apologize and make things right.”

Alexis arched one blond eyebrow. “Take it from someone who knows the privilege of being married to their soul mate. Dean looks at you the way Eric has always looked at me. And I think you already know that.”

I broke out in a full body blush as I replayed all the ways in which Dean had looked at me since the night I fell into his lap: shy and sweet, cute and charming, ravenous, hungry, passionate, devoted. Our time together really had been as intoxicating as it was normal. Perhaps that was the shape of true love formed by friendship. A heightened, electric desire bursting forth from a foundation of kindness and trust.

How beautiful it would be to live a life where giving in to pleasure also meant giving in to love.

“There have been, um…many moments between us where, yes, you would be correct,” I said nervously.

She smirked. “When can I take you out for shots and give you a bunch of advice on committed relationships?”

I laughed, dropping my head into my hands. “I’m hopeless, aren’t I?”

“Hopelessly in love, Tab. There’s a difference.”