“Can I?”

“Yeah, she can stay here until you’re done. Winnie will be by to get me for work, so I’ll just bring her with me.”

“Thanks, Jess.”

“No problem.”

I grab my stuff and grab Amelia, who doesn’t stir as I get her in the car. She sleeps soundly as I make my way to Jessica’s house. When I pull into her driveway, she’s waiting on the porch, hair a mess, and wearing a pair of shorts and tank top.

“I appreciate this,” I say as I carry Amelia in.

“Bring her up to my room, she can sleep there.”

As soon as I lay Melia in Jess’s bed, she makes a soft noise, curls onto her side, and is out like a light.

“I envy her,” Jess says with a soft laugh. “I’d give anything to sleep like that.”

I kiss my daughter’s head, and when we’re out in the hall, I pull Jess into my arms. “I missed you.”

Her breath hitches. “I missed you too.”

“I have to go, but maybe tomorrow night you can sneak over to my place?”

She nods. “I’d like that. Winnie owes me a favor.”

I give her a quick kiss before we head back downstairs. “There are some clothes for her in the bag, and if you need anything, I hate to say it, but call my mother. She has a full wardrobe for her, and—”

“Stop it,” she cuts me off. “Go, we’ll be fine. Call me when you’re done.”

“I will.” I start to back away, not quite ready to take my eyes off her.

“Be careful, Gray. I love you,” she says and then she clamps her hand over her mouth.

My heart, which had been pounding from the adrenaline, is now racing for another reason. I walk toward her, long strides eating up the distance between us. When I get to her, I take her face in my hands. “I love you too.”

“I didn’t mean to say it . . .”

“Did you mean it?”

“Yes,” Jessica admits.

It may only have been three weeks of sneaking off with Jessica, kissing in hallways, and pretending we’re not falling in love, but it’s been there since the first time I kissed her at the beach.

We said slow, but it’s impossible to reduce the speed of a bullet.

My heart feels like it’s found the missing puzzle piece that fits perfectly.

I love this woman. I always have, and then I wonder, what if I showed her how great our life could be? Would she stay then? If I don’t try, I’ll never forgive myself.

“Let’s go away this weekend,” I say to her.

“Go away? Where?”

“The beach house.” As if there were any other place for us.

“Do you really think that’s a good idea?” she asks, worry in her eyes.

“Why wouldn’t it be?”