I fling my dirty uniform into the hamper in my bedroom and pull on a long white t-shirt, covering myself, when I hear a throat clear in the doorway, Jonathan’s voice a gruff mumble when he says, “Shit, sorry, I was just, uh…”

I glance at him as he averts his gaze, forcing his eyes away.

“It’s fine,” I say. “You’ve seen me wear less.”

“Yeah, well…” He looks my way again, hesitating, like he’s not sure what he wants to say, if he should even say anything. “I wasn’t trying to, you know…”

“I know.”

Despite not trying to, he sort of does. His eyes slowly roam, and goose bumps coat my body, a chill creeping along my skin. Things are already weird, and he’s making it more nerve-wracking by blatantly gawking. My stomach gets tied up in knots at the look on his face, the slack-jawed awe as he licks his lips.

“Anyway.” He clears his throat. “I wanted to say goodnight.”

“Goodnight,” I whisper.

Jonathan lingers there, eyes continuing to roam. A moment passes before he turns away, making a move to leave.

“Wait.”

The lone word slips from my lips. I’m not sure why I say it. I don’t even think about it. He hesitates again, meeting my gaze, eyebrows raised with questions I don’t know how to answer as my heart thumps wildly with its own questions, like what the heck are you doing? I’m playing with fire, like I don’t remember how much it hurts to get burned, but from here, where I’m standing, all I can seem to feel is the warmth.

I don’t have to say anything else, which is good, because I’m not sure I could find the words if I needed to. He reaches for me, his fingertips grazing my flushed cheek and running along my jawline. He grasps my chin and tilts my face up as he leans down to kiss me. His lips are soft, so soft—so sweet and gentle.

He kisses me for a long time, not rushing, not pushing, just waiting. The breath leaves my lungs and all sense disappears from my head as I wrap my arms around him and pull him to my bed.

“You sure about this?” he asks quietly.

I shake my head, because nope, I’m still not sure about any of it, but I don’t stop myself. I lay down and he’s on top of me. I tug at his costume as he strips me of my clothes. My head is swimming and my heart is racing, and before I can catch my breath, his lips are on mine again and he’s pushing inside, already settled between my thighs. I gasp as he lets out a guttural groan, filling me, holding me.

None of it feels real.

Not this time. Not last time.

He moves slow at first, and it’s almost agonizing, before he increases his pace, thrusting harder, deeper, shoving my knees up and hitting that spot deep inside of me that makes my toes curl and my body quiver. I moan his name. “Jonathan.”

“Like that?” he asks, keeping his rhythm. “Is that how you want it?”

I nod, whimpering as he hits that spot again and again, unraveling the tight knots inside of me as I start to come apart at the seams. “Please.”

“You’re the queen,” he whispers, not stopping as orgasm rocks me. I arch my back, gripping him tightly, nails raking along his shoulders.

Even when it subsides, he doesn’t stop. He doesn’t slow down. He knows what I want and he gives it to me, over and over, until I’m begging, pleading, and can’t take another moment. Only then does he pull back, only then does he change his pace—hitting hard, so hard that my breath catches, a few rough, deep strokes as he groans, coming.

“Fuck,” he curses, nuzzling into my neck. He kisses the skin, teeth nipping at my throat. “So beautiful.”

The beautifulest woman in the world.

That’s what he told Maddie.

That’s how he described me.

Squeezing my eyes shut, I hold onto him, hoping he means those words, hoping I can believe him.

* * *

“Mommy?”

That’s all it takes to draw me out of a deep sleep, that lone word spoken nearby, the quiet voice calling out to me. Maddie. My eyes open, and I blink a few times, getting my wits about me. The room is starting to lighten, the sun rising outside, a soft glow streaming through the window and shining along the wooden floor around the bed.

I think maybe I was hearing things, because she’s not in front of me, and I start to close my eyes again when I hear soft giggling. It strikes me then, pieces all coming together as panic floods my system. Clutching the blanket to my bare chest, I sit up abruptly and turn the other way, wide-eyed.

She’s standing there, right beside where her father is sleeping in the bed. In my bed. Crap, he’s asleep in my bed, not wearing a bit of clothing, the blanket draped over him. Thank goodness he’s covered up—not that it makes this whole thing any better. She’s much too young to know what any of this is, but she’s got one heck of an imagination, that kid, which could prove dangerous.

I don’t want her to get ideas in her head and think this is more than it is… whatever it is.

She pokes his cheek before sticking her finger in his ear, giggling again when he grumbles in his sleep and moves around, flailing his hand, trying to ward off the intrusion.

“Madison,” I hiss, warning her. She pulls her hand away and looks at me with that ‘oh shit’ expression, knowing she’s busted. “What are you doing?”

“Nothing.”

“Doesn’t look like nothing.”

A smile cracks her face.

She does it again, sticking her finger in his ear. His face contorts with annoyance as he shifts position, groaning, “I’m trying to fucking sleep, Ser.”

Maddie gasps, yanking her hand back, looking at him with shock. I feel it, that same sensation stirring in the pit of my gut, but for much different reasons. Ser. Serena. He thinks it’s her. “Daddy says bad words!”

The moment she says that, Jonathan’s eyes snap open. He sits up so fast he rips the blanket right off of me. Gasping, I grab it, scrambling to stay covered, yanking it back onto me and almost exposing him in the process. He looks at me, wide-eyed, panicked, whispering, “oh fuck.”

“See!” Maddie says, reaching over and poking him in the ear. “I heard it!”

He laughs and pushes her hand away as he turns to her. “Sorry, didn’t know there were little ears in the room.”

Grasping her earlobe, he playfully tugs on it.

“Maddie, sweetheart, why don’t you head to the kitchen?” I suggest. “I’ll be there in a second to make you some breakfast.”

She leaves the room, and I try to slip out of bed, but well, I can feel Jonathan’s eyes, and my clothes are too far away to reach. He tries to touch me, his hand on my back, fingertips grazing my spine. I move away from him, taking the blanket with me, wrapping it around my naked body as I snatch up some clothes.

“Kennedy? What’s wrong?”

“Maddie’s waiting for breakfast,” I mumble, going straight for the bathroom. I close the door behind me, letting out a long exhale as I pull on my clothes, grumbling to myself. “Stupid, stupid, stupid... could you be any more stupid? Sleeping with that stupid man after all the stupid crap he’s done... what is wrong with you?”

Yanking the door back open, I nearly slam into a body blocking the doorway, lingering in the hall. He had the sense to put on his pants and is still struggling to button them.

“Excuse me,” I mumble, averting my gaze, but he’s not moving out of my way.

He grasps my arm before I can go past him, his brow furrowed. “Did I do something?”

“I don’t know,” I mumble. “Did you?”

I try to move away from him, but he steps further into my path. “Come on, don’t be that way. Tell me what’s wrong.”

I hesitate. I want to make some snide comment and storm away, throw a tantrum like a petulant child because I feel so stupid, but that’s not me. It’s never been me. So whatever, it is what it is, so I say it, no matter how stupid it sounds. “You called her Ser.”

“What?”

“She woke you up, and you thought she was Serena.”

He lets go of my arm as his expression shifts to something that looks like pity, and I don’t like it.

I leave him there and head for the kitchen, sighing when I see a chair shoved over to the counter, Maddie standing on it, digging through the cabinets. “What do you think you’re doing, little girl?”

“Looking for the Lucky Charms,” she says as I pull her down and set her on her feet.

“I’m afraid we’re all out.” I grab a box of Cheerios. “How about these?”

She makes a face of disgust.

“Raisin Bran?”

Another face.

“How about some cottage cheese?”

She pretends to gag.

“Uh, well, how about—?”

“How about I take you out for breakfast?” Jonathan suggests, stepping into the kitchen. “Pancakes, sausage, eggs…”

“Bacon!” Maddie declares.

“I don’t know,” I say. “I’m not sure that’s a good idea, you know, with the whole you being you thing.”

“Me being me,” he says.

“Yeah, chances are you’ll get recognized and then have to explain this whole thing and well, you know, I’m not sure it’s worth it for some breakfast.”

“But it might be bacon,” Maddie whines.

Jonathan hesitates, thinking it over, glancing between us before he says, “I know somewhere we can go.”

* * *

Mrs. McKleski’s place.

Landing Inn.

That’s where he takes us.

Maddie and I stand in the woman’s foyer in our pajamas, while Jonathan wears just the leather pants from the Knightmare costume. Mrs. McKleski looks at us like we’ve gone crazy, and I instantly want to be anywhere else in the world, but it’s too late, because Maddie’s been promised some bacon.

“You want breakfast,” Mrs. McKleski says. “That’s what you’re telling me?”

He nods. “Yes, ma'am.”

She stares at him. Hard. I expect a denial, because this whole idea is absurd, but after a moment, she lets out a resigned sigh.

“Fine, but go put on some clothes,” she says. “This is an inn, Mr. Cunningham, not Chippendales. I won’t have you at my breakfast table looking like a gigolo.”

He cocks an eyebrow at the woman. “Wasn’t aware you knew what a gigolo was.”

“Go,” she says pointedly, “before I change my mind.”

“Yes, ma’am,” he says, flashing her a smile before turning to me and nodding toward the stairs. “Join me?”

I stare at him, not moving.

He steps closer. “Please?”

“Fine,” I mumble, glancing at Maddie, not wanting to cause a scene. “Hey, sweetheart, why don’t you have a seat in the living room?”

“Nonsense,” Mrs. McKleski says. “She can come help me cook. Teach her some responsibility. Not sure her father ever learned any.”

Jonathan scowls before again motioning for me to follow him.

“And no hanky-panky,” Mrs. McKleski calls to us as we start upstairs.

“What’s the hanky-panky?” Maddie asks, following the woman to the kitchen.

“She means the hokey-pokey,” I yell down before Mrs. McKleski can answer, because there’s no telling how that woman would explain it.

“Oh, I like the hokey-pokey!” Maddie looks at the woman with confusion. “Why don’t you wanna play it?”

“Too messy,” Mrs. McKleski grumbles. “All that turning yourself around.”

Shaking my head, I go upstairs, stalling right inside the room as Jonathan sorts through his belongings to find some clothes.

“I didn’t mean it, you know,” he says as he strips off his pants, standing in front of me naked. Oh god. I avert my gaze, trying not to look, but I see from the corner of my eye as he tugs on a pair of black boxers. “The Serena thing… I didn’t mean it.”

I don’t say anything. What am I supposed to say? He pulls on a pair of jeans before grabbing a plain black shirt.

“I’m serious,” he says. “I was half-asleep and didn’t know what I was saying.”

“It doesn’t matter,” I say, trying to move away, but he stops me, one hand on my arm, the other cupping my cheek.

“It does matter,” he says, making me look at him. “Serena used to get fucked up on coke and stay awake for days and drive everyone on set crazy. And she’d do shit like that whenever we tried to rest. She played games. So it wasn’t that I thought…” He trails off. “I know who I slept with last night. I know who I woke up beside this morning. And I’m sorry I said some shit in my sleep that made you think I didn’t know.”

I’m still not sure what to say, so I just go with, “Okay.”

“Okay,” he repeats me. “Just okay? That’s it?”

I shrug.

He lets out a laugh. “I guess that’s better than nothing.”

He kisses me—softly, sweetly, his hand roaming from my cheek down between us, cupping a breast.

I pull away. “No hanky-panky, remember?”

He grins, moving his hand. “Okay, okay… breakfast.”

We head downstairs, and as soon as we approach the kitchen I hear Maddie’s excited voice rambling about the convention. Quietly, I sit down at the table and listen as she goes on and on about how much fun she had and how great her daddy is.

The whole time, Jonathan sits beside me, beaming.

When breakfast is finished, Mrs. McKleski hands out plates, slipping one in front of me on the table before Maddie settles in on my right with her own plate piled high with bacon. Jonathan’s comes last, and I stifle a laugh as Mrs. McKleski shoves it at him, the food sloppily thrown on it, his toast burned and bacon extra-crispy.

“Uh, thanks,” Jonathan says, picking up a piece of bacon and taking a bite, cringing as it crunches.

“Don’t like it? Don’t eat,” Mrs. McKleski says. “Nobody likes a whiner, Cunningham.”

She strolls out of the kitchen, and he watches her as she leaves, mumbling, “All I said was thanks.”

“You didn’t say it with meaning,” she calls back at him. “It’s no wonder you haven’t gotten an Oscar. You’re terrible.”

I stifle another laugh as Jonathan glares at the doorway.

“Don’t worry,” Maddie says, munching on a piece of bacon. “You can get the Oscar someday.”

He grins at her. “You think so?”

She nods. “All you gots to do is get better at it.”

This time, I do laugh.

“Wow,” he says. “I can sure feel the love.”

Maddie smiles, not sensing his sarcasm. “It’s ‘cuz I love you.”

His expression shifts. I see it as those words strike him. “You love me?”

Maddie laughs. “Duh.”

Duh. She says that like he’s being ridiculous asking that question, like he’s supposed to just know, but love isn’t something he’s had a lot of.

“I love you, too,” he says.

“More than bacon?” she asks, munching on a piece.

“More than bacon,” he says quietly. “More than everything.”

She smiles at that and continues to eat her breakfast, satisfied by his answer. My chest aches, my heart feeling like it wants to burst. I sometimes wonder about his words, I question his feelings, his wishes, his wants, but from this moment on, I’ll never doubt that he loves her, because I know he means it. I believe it.

We eat breakfast.

They chat. They laugh.

I mourn.

I mourn the years they lost, the time that was wasted, the love that maybe just wasn’t quite enough to overcome his demons sooner. Every smile they share today is the product of years of tears, of years of fighting and struggling and hoping and mourning but never, ever, ever quitting or giving up, because we’re here. And maybe it won’t last, I don’t know. Maybe tomorrow something will happen and the tears will come back, but I’m grateful for the moment, knowing he loves her more than anything.

“We should get going,” I say after breakfast is through, the plates piled in the sink. “I have laundry to catch up on.”

Maddie jumps down from her chair at the table and looks at Jonathan. “Are you coming? You can have another sleepover!”

“Not tonight,” he says. “You have school in the morning, and your mother has work.”

Maddie frowns. “But will you come play tomorrow?”

“Yeah, sure, if you want me to.”

Maddie nods. “See you tomorrow!”

“See you tomorrow,” he says when she walks away, heading for the foyer. He turns to me as he says, “Thank you, K.”

“What are you thanking me for?”

“Giving me a second chance,” he says. “And a third, and a forth, and a fifth…”

“And a twentieth.”

He laughs lightly. “And a twentieth.”

“There won’t be a twenty-first,” I tell him. “I have to draw the line somewhere.”

“I won’t need another,” he says, his hand grasping my hip and pulling me closer, between his legs. “I’m going to get it right this time.”

* * *

“Aunt Meghan!”

Maddie takes off running for the apartment the second I park the car and let her out, heading straight for Meghan, who lurks by the front door.

“Hey, sugar-cookie, pecan-swirl!” Meghan says, snatching Maddie up and spinning her around. “How’s my sweet niece doing, still in her PJs even though it’s noon?”

Meghan’s gaze shifts to me, suspicious. Yeah, it’s practically the walk of shame, family-style. I haven’t even brushed my hair. Ugh, I haven’t showered. Her brother’s DNA is all over me, all up in me, and Meghan’s the human equivalent of a bloodhound.

The second I get close to her, she knows.

“My daddy took me to the convention!” Maddie says when Meghan sets her on her feet. “And then we had a sleepover, but he slept with Mommy, and then we went to have bacon!”

“Wow,” Meghan says, shooting me a pointed look as she repeats herself. “Wow.”

I open the front door. Maddie runs inside, heading straight for her bedroom, but I linger there, knowing Meghan’s about to pelt me with questions.

“You’ve gotta be fucking kidding me,” Meghan says, stopping short and glaring at the cardboard cutout of Breezeo still in my living room. She cuts her eyes at me with disbelief. “Really?”

“I had nothing to do with that.”

“It’s in your apartment.”

“Yeah, well…”

I have no defense.

“Unbelievable,” Meghan says, shaking her head. “A sleepover? Are you… wow, you're really doing this with him again?”

“No, we’re not. I mean, we’re just… I don’t know.” I sigh, running my hands down my face. “I don’t know what I’m doing.”

“Clearly,” she says, looking back at the cutout bearing her brother’s face.

“I need to shower,” I say, “I’ll be back.”

“Yeah, go do that. See if you can scrub him off of you.”

Too late for that, I think, but I don’t dare say it. He’s all up inside of me right now—literally, figuratively.

I shower, and dress, and once I feel human again, I gather some clothes to take them across the street to the Laundromat, since my washer is still broken. Meghan comes by sometimes on Sundays and spends time with Maddie to give me a reprieve, a few hours so I can catch up on housework without interruption.

After the laundry is finished, I head to the grocery store and stock up on food, making sure to buy Lucky Charms for breakfast in the mornings. Afterward, I’m straightening up my bedroom and putting clothes away when my attention drifts to the ripped cardboard box hastily shoved back in the closet weeks ago. I pull it out again, shifting through the dusty mementos, and grab the old five-subject notebook. The cheap black cover is faded after all these years. I can only faintly make out my scratchy doodling.

I flip through it. Two hundred pages, college-ruled, most of them full of my messy scribble. The notebook feels heavier than one ever should, but I know it’s not the paper weighing it down, but the memory of all those words. The notebook holds a piece of my heart, a piece of my soul, the piece I gave to him long ago.

“You’re being an idiot,” Meghan says, popping up in the doorway behind me.

I laugh to myself. “I know.”