“I have one more question,” I hummed, our lips brushing, my heart in my throat. “Hmm?” Ben waited, sleepy-sweet. “Did I scare you, Ben?” My heart stuttered. “When I left?” Ben laughed, a quiet, sweet little sound. He pressed another kiss to my lips, and instead of answering my question, gave me the last piece of the puzzle I needed before I could rest. “Beckett gets to go home,” Ben replied, voice husky and gentle. “And he’s sickeningly, deliriously happy.” “He is?” “He is,” Ben hummed, kissing me again, and then again—just because he wanted to. “He gets married.” My eyes burned. “He does?”
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