More than what I’d imagined it would be.

This man was made for me.

He’s open, honest, great with his tongue, and he cares about pleasing me in the bedroom. A rare gem in a sea of men with two pumps, who think foreplay is a clit flick before setting off for the finale of sticking their cock inside me.

I’m certain, when he leaves here today, he won’t call his buddies and brag about hooking up with me. He won’t play mind games, ignore my texts, and call the other girls he’s talking to and say, Sorry, babe, I fell asleep.

Lincoln is the real deal.

Our relationship is the real deal.

I don’t care if he’s a felon because that’s not what defines him. He’s a good man, the man I can see myself spending the rest of my life with, the man I hope whose emotions are just as strong.

“You know about Lincoln’s … legal problems, right?” I ask Georgia, sitting across from her at the food court in the mall.

We came. We shopped. She bought furry pink pillows, a pink-chandelier canvas print, and rose-gold candleholders. I cannot wait to see them matched with Archer’s home. I haven’t been there yet, but from what Georgia’s told me, its Pinterest board would be labeled Make My Home As Masculine As Possible with No Character.

Georgia nods, sipping her açaí smoothie—something I’ve never had, but she talked me into trying it, saying Jamie got her obsessed with them. “I do. What do you know?”

“What do you know?” She’s not giving me details until she finds out what Lincoln has confided in me. I respect that.

She’s the first person I’ve brought Lincoln’s record up with. I can’t exactly talk to my siblings about it, and I don’t have many friends. Plus, with her being Archer’s girlfriend and living with Lincoln, there’s no doubt she knows about his past.

“He was in prison …” I bite on my straw.