The next morning, Angie sets down a plate of eggs for me at the kitchen table.

“You really don’t have to cook for me,” I say with a chuckle.

“I enjoy it,” she says. “Besides, tomorrow is my last day working for you, and I wanted you to try my famous scrambled eggs before I go.”

I take a bite, raising my eyebrows in pleasant surprise at the tangy flavor she managed to work into them. “These are incredible.”

She smiles proudly. “Sharp cheddar cheese, butter, and I add a scoop of sour cream right at the end. Best eggs you’ll ever have.”

I can’t disagree, and even Dean is pounding his down. He’s apparently in such a hurry to get the eggs in his mouth that he tossed his fork aside and is using his hands like grubby little egg shovels.

“He never eats my eggs,” I say a little sourly.

Angie laughs. “Well, now you know the secret. So maybe you’ll trade me a secret for a secret. You’re glowing,” she says with a knowing smile. “The date went well last night?”

I blush furiously because the first images that come to my mind are of Damian fingering me in a room full of people while a woman on stage is getting gang-banged. If anybody knew exactly what I did last night, I’d be mortified. But I guess Melina is going to find out. She’ll smell how juicy my secrets are from a mile away and dig them out of me like a bloodhound. Angie doesn’t have to know all the gory details, at least.

“It went well,” I say carefully. “I think I’ll be seeing more of him.”

Angie barks out an amused laugh. “I see. It was that good?”

My blush deepens. “Yes.”

“Good,” mutters Dean between mouthfuls of egg. “Neenie Good,” he says, patting his shirt with his hand and smearing egg everywhere. Neenie is as close as he can come to saying Deanie, which I call him all the time.

“Yes you are good, Deanie,” I say with a smile.

There’s a knock at the door that makes me jump. I haven’t even gotten ready yet, and I don’t know who would be bugging us so early, except Damian. We didn’t agree on a time, but for some reason I assumed he’d be coming by in the evening.

I make a quick and futile attempt to fix the mess that is my hair. I’m wearing saggy pajama bottoms and a white tank top that’s a little big. I haven’t even looked in the mirror. I briefly consider just running. Maybe if I barricaded myself in the bathroom I’d have a chance to get presentable before Damian had to see what the real me looks like. Even looking like a hot mess, I want to see him though. I can’t stop myself from moving to the door and pulling it open.

My heart sinks and tightens with fear at the same time.

Melina stands in the doorway with a slightly crazed look in her eyes. She doesn’t appear to have spent much time getting ready either.

“Kylie,” she says in a measured voice as she lets herself in, brushing past me.

“Melina?” I ask, more than a little confused. I close the door and follow after her as she walks around my place, inspecting everything like she’s expecting to find a smoking gun somewhere.

“You’ll have to excuse us for a few minutes,” she says to Angie, who looks as confused as me. “Kylie has to come to the bedroom with me.”

Angie raises an eyebrow so high at that I think it might disappear into her hairline.

“She doesn’t mean like that,” I blurt, but Melina is already dragging me toward the bedroom with no signs of slowing down.

Once I’m inside, she slams the door behind us and rounds on me. “You didn’t call me? Do you know how long I stayed up last night?”

Judging from the dark circles under her eyes, she stayed up late, maybe all night. “I didn’t want to wake you--”

Melina slaps me across the face. It’s almost playful, but it does sting a little.

I burst out laughing. “You are ridiculous.”

The corner of her mouth pulls up in the faintest smirk. “You’re not leaving this room until you give me details. All the details. I want to know how many buttons his suit had, how he did his hair, what the place you went to was like, how big his cock is,” she adds under her breath.

“Melina!” I say, still laughing.

It takes less time than I would’ve thought to fill Melina in on everything, except one part. I don’t tell her about Dean, or what happened between Damian and I three years ago. I hoped she wouldn’t press me for more details, but she’s watching me now that I’m done, eyes narrowed suspiciously.

“I don’t get it,” she says. “You went into the crazy torture room, then you just ran away? Why did you leave?”

I look to to the side, pulling at my fingers while I try to think of a convincing lie, except I’ve never made a habit of lying to Melina, and I don't really want to start now. She’s a good friend. She always has been, and she doesn’t deserve to be lied to. Maybe I’ve withheld the truth from her about Damian from the start, but there’s a big difference between not offering up the truth and lying when asked a direct question.

“I knew Damian before he came into the office,” I say slowly. “Like, three years before. We kind of had a one night stand. In an airport.”

“So what now? Are you lovebirds going to tie the knot or something?

I laugh. “I’d be lying if I said the thought never crossed my mind. But marriage? You saw him, right? Can you picture a man like Damian scrambling eggs for the family in the morning, changing diapers, or helping sweep the floors?”

Melina looks thoughtfully toward the ceiling and grins, eyebrows rising. “Naked. Yes, I can picture him doing all that. Naked,” she adds again.

“You know, if you keep drooling over him, we may have to throw down,” I say.

Melina gives me an amused look. “Please don’t tempt me. The idea of you trying to fight is so hilarious I might just have to provoke you so I can see it.”

I feel an unexpected surge of annoyance. “I’m serious. You have your own man. All the little jokes about Damian you’ve been making need to stop.”

The humor slips from her face a little as she watches me. “You’re really going to get pissy with me over some jokes?”

My nostrils flare. I don’t know what’s coming over me. I’ve never been the raging, jealous girlfriend type--if I even qualify as his girlfriend, that is. But right now Melina is pressing all the wrong buttons. She thinks she doesn’t need to be afraid of me? She might be more scared when she’s got my handprint on her face. “I’m not getting pissy. I just don’t want you joking about seeing my boyfriend naked. Or any of the other sexual stuff you’ve said.”

“Your boyfriend, is he?” she teases.

“Stop it,” I say, pushing her.

She looks down at where my hands touched her with wide eyes. “You actually pushed me.” she says.

“Yeah, and I’ll do more than that if you don’t stop being a creep.”

I’m already feeling a little silly for losing my temper so quickly. I’m about to apologize and blow it off when Melina scares the living crap out of me by yelling out a war-cry and charging me. She catches my chest with her shoulder, driving me onto the bed, where she begins tickle attacking me. I’ve always been ticklish, and she knows it.

Within seconds, I’m kicking, laughing, and trying to tickle her back but none of it is working.

“Think you’re so tough?” she asks with a grin. “Think you can boss me around? Not as long as you’re this ticklish, bitch.”

I laugh, holding my stomach both to protect myself and massage my sides, which already hurt from laughing.

The door opens. We both freeze--with Melina straddling me and her hands just beneath my boobs and my own hands near my belly.

“Am I interrupting?” asks Damian.

I briefly imagine how this must look from his perspective and blush so much that my cheeks hurt. “I’m ticklish…” I say in a small voice, as if that is anything close to an explanation.

“Good to know,” says Damian. “I’ll remember that next time you misbehave.”

Melina looks at me with her back to Damian and mouths “Oh my God.”

I give her a quick look that I hope conveys a very clear message: Don’t be weird. Well, it’s too late for that one I guess, but I push her off me.

“If you could give us a minute?” says Damian.

Melina looks at him defiantly, planting a hand on her hip. “Whatever you have to say to her, you can say in front of me.”

“Melina,” I say sternly.

She gives me a sideways glance but doesn’t budge.

Damian clears his throat. Despite all her tough talk, it only takes one look from Damian to have her practically scurrying out of the room and closing the door.

“Should I be worried?” he asks with a half-grin.

“No,” I say. “No. Absolutely not. Melina is just… special. She’s protective too. Like a misguided chihuahua.”

“Hmm,” he says. “I was hoping to take you and Dean out for a little fun. Will I have to run that through your bodyguard?”

“Somehow, I think we’ll be able to get past her.”

When we leave my bedroom, Melina nearly falls into us. She straightens awkwardly, brushing imaginary wrinkles from her shirt, then makes a poor attempt of looking innocent. “You know I think you may have termite damage in this doorframe,” she says.

“You weasel,” I say. “You were listening in?”

“No. But if I was, I’d tell you I’m way cuter and prettier than a freaking chihuahua.”

Damian gives me a sideways glance.

“I know she’s out of control,” I say. “But she’s got a certain kind of charm. Once you get used to her.”

“I see,” says Damian. “Well, I can’t wait until that happens.”

“Hey,” says Melina indignantly. “Maybe you should speak for yourself.”

He raises a dangerous eyebrow at her that has her shrinking back.

Dean bursts into the living room wearing nothing but a pair of little brown sandals and his training pants. “Nakie, nakie!” he shouts proudly.

Angie comes out of the kitchen, assesses the situation, and makes a surprisingly athletic lunge for Dean, but he’s too fast. He ducks her arms and spins free, stomping and clapping with joy at having evaded capture. Melina makes a half-hearted attempt to wrangle him when he comes her way, but he weaves between her legs.

“Nakie, nakie!” He laughs gleefully.

Like a bullfighter, I snag his favorite blanket and wave it where he can see it, hoping to lure him into my reach, but he’s wise to my tricks too, and he makes a wide turn around me.

Damian takes a casual step forward, reaches, and wraps Dean up in his arms. Dean struggles at first, but once Damian unleashes a flurry of tickles, all Dean can do is wiggle and laugh in Damian’s arms.

I watch the two of them closely, my heart thudding when I realize the significance. It’s the first time Damian has knowingly held his own son. And every single doubt I could’ve possibly had about bringing him into our lives is blasted away the moment I see the way Damian looks at Dean. Dean is none the wiser to it, laughing with his head back and his little hands clasping at Damian’s.

There’s a sparkle in Damian’s eye, and if I didn’t know better, I’d say he was on the verge of tearing up. When he’s done tickling Dean, he pulls him into a hug, closing his eyes tight and taking a deep breath. I expect Dean to wiggle away because he’s at the age where he’s got too much he wants to do to be bothered with long hugs, but Dean doesn’t budge. He even leans his head into Damian’s shoulder and puts his arms around him.

My throat tightens and my eyes fill with tears. I slip back into my bedroom and press my back to the wall, sinking down and crying. I’m crying not just because I can see how perfect Damian is going to be with Dean, but because I played a huge part in keeping him away from Dean until now. Even if I thought I had good reasons to leave, and even if I had no way of knowing I was pregnant when I left, I knew Damian had to be the father when I found out I was pregnant. Trusting what Faleena told me about him was a mistake I’m going to have to live with for the rest of my life, and I only hope I’ve been a good enough mom to Dean on my own to make up for the gaping absence of a father.

But it’s going to change now. It’s all going to change. Whether I made a mistake in the past or not, Damian really meant everything he said. He wants to be with me. He wants to be part of Dean’s life. He wants to take care of us.

I feel so much relief and joy from that knowledge it almost scares me. No matter how much I may feel like I know Damian, the fact remains that I’ve spent less than a week with him in total. A few hours at the airport three years ago. A little bit of time at the party I went to with Alec and Melina. A few minutes in the office. Our dinner date. Then last night at the club. And now this… Just snapshots. I have nothing more than snapshots of this man, yet I feel like I know him. I feel like I can trust him.

Maybe that’s crazy. I just hope like hell it’s not, because I don’t think I can stop feeling the way I do.

“He’s the father, isn’t he?” asks Melina, who slips into my room and closes the door quietly behind her.

I wipe my eyes and sniffle. “Yes.” Admitting it feels better than it should, like I just dropped a weight I’d been carrying for so long I stopped noticing, only now that it’s gone I feel the relief surging through me. “Yes,” I say again. “It’s a long story, and I’ll tell you later. I promise. But yes.”

Melina kneels beside me and gives me a long, tight hug. “Good,” she says. “And whatever it is you seem to think you did wrong,” she adds, wiping another tear from my eye. “I’m going to need you to stop blaming yourself. I know you. I know you’d only ever do what you thought was best for Dean. So whatever it is that got you here, don’t play ‘what if.’ Just accept it. You made those decisions and now you’re here for a reason.”

“How do you manage to give relevant advice when you have no idea what’s going on?” I ask.

“I’ve always been pretty awesome.”

I laugh. I take a deep breath, wiping my eyes. “Do I look okay?”

“You look like you were just crying, but it’s okay. I told him you get really bad allergies sometimes and I was going to come make sure you had your medicine.”

“Great, now he’s going to be wondering why I am miraculously cured of allergies after today.”

“One problem at a time, chicka.”

I roll my eyes. “Unless you’re here. Then it’s like twelve problems per minute.”

“Ungrateful little…” she mutters with a grin. “Why don’t you go out there and let the man sweep you off your feet before I decide to pop you right in the kisser.”

I scrunch up my nose. “Pop me right in the kisser? What are you, some gangster from the 80s?”

“No. I’m your best friend who loves you and wants to see you happy for once. Really happy. And I’m also the friend who is going to pop your right in the kisser if you leave that gorgeous man waiting any longer.”

I smile and give her a quick hug before heading back into the living room.

“Everything okay?” he asks, moving to take me by the shoulders and inspect me, like he’s expecting to see a wound somewhere. His eyes linger for a long time on mine, which are likely a little red and swollen from the brief crying jag that I had. “Melina said you had allergies, but I never noticed any symptoms before. So I was worried.”

A few days ago, I would’ve lied and told him it was fine. I would’ve just played it off and taken the easy out Melina gave me. But if I felt like I had a right to make Damian jump through hoops to prove I could trust him, I also can’t let myself start lying to him. “Seeing you two together was really special,” I say. “That’s all. I didn’t expect it to hit me so hard but it did.”

He kisses my forehead, which prompts Dean to start making kissing noises as he hugs my leg. I know Angie and Melina are watching us and I feel all kinds of awkward having a moment like this in front of them, but somehow I can’t make myself care. Maybe it’s a new me. A version of myself that isn’t always trying to hide my emotions and just shrug things off. A me that doesn’t let worries about what people will think get in the way of really living. Whatever it is, I like it, because I know exactly what the old me would’ve done. She would’ve cleared her throat uncomfortably and excused herself from the situation.

Now?

I thread my fingers through Damian’s hair and pull him down so I can kiss his lips. “I love you,” I say. “I don’t care anymore if that’s crazy. I feel like I know you better than anyone I’ve ever known in my life, and I love you.”

My chest thumps with the rapid beats of my heart, breasts rising and falling as I suck in expectant breaths. Did I really just drop the “L” bomb after what was basically just one real date? He’s going to think I’m crazy. One-hundred percent, absolutely cra--

“I love you too,” he says.

Each word spikes through me like something visceral, so thick and rich with happiness I can actually feel the emotion blossoming through my body and leaving warmth in its wake. Damian has made it no secret that he cares about me and wants me to be his since he came back. He’s possessive and determined as hell. I knew all that. But love? Love is a completely different idea, and until I blundered and blurted my way to professing my premature love for him, I was pretty sure he was more of a lust kind of guy than a love kind of guy.

“Yay!” says Melina. She claps a few quick times before realizing it’s not exactly the moment for it. “I actually have to pee,” she says quietly before excusing herself.

Angie just winks at me and turns back to the dishes. Dean has absolutely no idea what’s going on, but he is tugging at Damian’s leg, wanting to be held.

“So,” I say. “About that date…”