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Because the very last thing I need in my life is someone who makes me feel like there’s not enough oxygen in my lungs when I’ve only just caught my breath.
I want to know more about Winter Valentine. Like when that divorce is happening.
“I think I like you because you are a heart-stopping, jaw-dropping type of beautiful.”
His hand swipes through his hair and he steps away. “Ya know, I’m in the middle of something. Something I have a good feeling about. So it’s a no.” My stomach goes hot, like it’s melting in on itself. Her responding laugh is shriller this time, her tone not as sweet. “Oh, my bad. I didn’t realize you were with someone.” His eyes slice over to mine, busting me. Again. “I’m not. Yet.”
“Rhett, I’m going to stop you right there. You have been my friend for a long time. My mentor for even longer. My dad loved you, and I do too. But so help me, if you keep talking about this current situation like it’s a burden, it will become difficult to stay friends with you.” He flinches, his eyes widening. “Wow. Alright. It’s just that Winter is kind of—” “What?” I cut him off. “Strong? Intelligent? A fantastic fucking mom? Because if you were thinking words about her that are anything less than positive, then you’ve found the line.”
“Because your wellbeing has quickly become my number one priority.” “Why?” Her ragged breathing echoes in the otherwise quiet gym. “Because I fucking adore you. Haven’t you been paying attention?”
Theo Dale Silva has wormed his way into my heart, and I never stood a chance at keeping him out.
“I just remembered that he called me the morning after you two first got together. And do you know what he said to me? I shake my head. It’s all I can manage. “He said, ‘Mom, I met her.’ And I said, ‘Who?’” Loretta’s lips curve up, her eyes taking on a faraway look. “He said, ‘The woman I’m going to marry one day.’”
I’ll be too busy loving you.”
I’m going to show up for her. Every goddamn time.
“Te vivo?” Winter nods. “It’s Portuguese. My dad used to say it to my sister and me. Sadly, it’s some of the only Portuguese I know. It means ‘I live you’ or something along those lines.” “You mean I love you?” “No.” I scrub at my stubble and glance down at our daughter, who is now amusing herself by playing her favorite game of fetch with Peter and his miniature rubber chicken. “It means . . . I live you. Like I see you everywhere, you are in everything. Our connection is more than physical.”
“Hope you’re ready to do this dad thing again, because there’s another Theo doppelgänger on the way,” nothing is more important than us.