A few minutes later, Chance is snuggled down smack in the middle of the mattress. Lilly sighs and shakes her head. “He hasn’t wanted to sleep with me in a long time.”

Ten thousand pounds of guilt threatens to crush me. I had to be a big man, slamming the door in Ted’s face tonight instead of acting like a responsible father. “I shouldn’t have—”

“No,” she cuts me off. “Stuff happens. He’ll be okay.” She tosses her robe on the chest at the foot of the bed and slides under the covers.

Careful not to disturb Chance, I get in on my side and reach over to shut the lamp off. “Think we should leave it on?” I ask.

“No. As long as we’re here when he wakes up, he’ll be fine.”

“I’m not going anywhere.”

I can’t see her expression, but she reaches over our son and rests her hand on my arm. “I know you’re not.”

Twisting my arm, I capture her hand and bring it up to my mouth, slowly brushing my lips against her knuckles. “We still need to talk, Lilly.”

“I know,” she whispers.

I turn her hand, kissing her open palm down to her wrist. She laughs softly. “That tickles.”

“Shh…don’t wake him again.”

We’re both quiet for a few minutes, but it doesn’t sound like she’s asleep yet.

“I meant what I said earlier.”

“You said a lot of things,” she whispers.

“That I love you.”

The bed shifts and her warmth spreads over my skin. She presses her forehead against my chin for a second before reaching up to kiss my jaw. “I love you too,” she whispers. “Don’t ever doubt it.”

It’s not our love I doubt.

It’s everything else.

Chapter Three

Lilly

The next morning, we’re jarred from sleep by Chance jumping on the bed and finally flopping down next to Z.

“Sleep okay, buddy?” Z rasps, barely opening his eyes.

“Yup!” Chance seems to have forgotten all about last night. Even asks why he’s in my room, which is a relief.

The weight of Z’s stare follows me as I lead Chance out of the bedroom. It takes Z a few minutes, but eventually he finds me. “We still need to talk.”

“I’m not marrying anyone but you, Z,” I say without turning around.

His warm, solid body presses up against my back and he wraps his big hands around my wrists, forcing me to drop my spatula on the counter. He uses his chin to push my hair out of his way and slides his lips against my neck. “Say that again.”

I can’t form a coherent thought, let alone remember what I said five seconds ago with him wrapped around me like a wall of warmth, desire, and safety. “You’re the only man I’ve ever wanted to marry.”