“Yes.” I sniffled. “I don’t understand how . . . I mean . . . after all this time . . . and he stole from you.” I sat upright to look at his face. I was a snotty mess and didn’t have it in me to care.

His big hands softly caressed the sides of my arms as we remained locked on to one another.

“You know, Colin’s been obsessed with the city since we visited here with his uncle in 2019. I’m not much of a big-city girl, though.” I licked my wet, salty lips. “His dream school is NYU, if he can ever stop getting into fights to get in.” Story for later. “I didn’t want to be far away from him for college, so I figured the sooner we move here, the better.”

“My sister went to NYU.” The emotion in his tone was palpable, but no tears fell.

You have family, which means Colin has more now, too. So much to learn.

“Do you think Colin’s been obsessed with this city because he could feel you here when we visited? Is that crazy?”

“No crazier than you being drawn to my sister’s church. Or our son stealing my wallet. And I only wanted it back because of something she wrote to me that was inside it.”

“Wait, what?” I rewound what he’d said, but before I could ask a follow-up question, he spoke again.

“Colin told me where you were.” He stopped stroking my arms but didn’t let go. His eyes had a whole world of hurt in them, and something told me that wasn’t just about Colin. “Not crazy, no,” he added when I’d yet to cut through the uncomfortable quiet. “And I’d rather not talk about my sister.”

Ohhh. Oh God. Chills coasted up and down my arms, pebbling my skin. He probably noticed because he resumed soothing me again.

“What do we do now?” he asked.

I shifted around on his lap, the reality of where and what I was sitting on settling in.

“My body doesn’t give a damn what we’re talking about,” he said, as if reading my thoughts. “Your ass is there and you’re kinda moving around.”

My Scottish had to be showing through my fair skin. I was hot in the face and probably blushing all over. “I should get you off.” Oh. My. God. “I mean, get off you.”

His hands found a new home on my burning-hot cheeks. “You’re still the same girl I met back then, aren’t you?”

“Maybe?”

“Our son is lucky to have you as his mother.”

His words were the final nail in the coffin of my heart, and I was two seconds away from a full-on sob, prepared to list off a million ways I’d failed, but the words “our son” triumphed over the guilt and regret.