I’m not going to lie; I’m on cloud nine.

I can no longer pretend. I’m falling in love with Xavier, and I think—or I hope—he’s falling in love with me. It’s been three weeks since we spent the night together.

As promised, the next day we’d called into work, both of us feigning illness. We’d spent the day, naked. We’d lain in bed, talked, laughed, and watched TV, without a stitch of clothing on. It’s funny, up until him, I’d never imagined walking around my apartment naked, but I’d loved it.

Every single day since has gotten better and better and we’ve grown closer and closer.

Being with Xavier gives me a confidence I’d lacked before. Not about my looks, but about living my life. He’s emboldened me. Now I seek out fun, and the kind of adventure I’ve always craved, but had been too passive to go for. I can’t stop smiling. I can’t stop laughing. And shopping, oh my god, I finally understood and it has become fun.

We’ve been practically inseparable, and our relationship has expanded beyond my apartment. We’re going places and doing things. He’s taken me to all the hot spots in Chicago. We’ve done all the tourist things too, things I’ve never done, despite living here my whole life.

We have fun. The sex, which is fantastic, is merely a bonus.

Tonight, he’d surprised me by asking me to go to his nana’s for dinner. We hadn’t talked about what we were doing, or said anything to our friends, so I hadn’t expected it. Something I’d never have dreamed would happen on Valentine’s night when they’d driven me home from my disastrous date. It secretly thrilled me, because I know what a big deal it is. Xavier does not bring women to dinner with his grandma.

But he’s bringing me.

I twist in the mirror in my bathroom, surveying the results of my effort.

I’d dressed in a long, camel-colored tunic, adorned with a brown leather woven belt, cream leggings and knee-high boots. I’d also treated myself to a blow out and my hair was sleek and straight, flowing down my back. I look good. Almost pretty instead of cute.

The doorbell rings and I run to answer it, buzzing Xavier up.

A minute later he’s there, holding me close and kissing me as I melt into him.

When he finally pulls back he flicks a finger through my hair. “What happened to your curls?”

I smile at him. “I got a blow out.”

His brow creases. “What is a blow out?”

I laugh. “They use a blow dryer to straighten your hair.”

He stands back and glances at me, before shaking his head. “I love your curls, but I can’t deny you look quite beautiful.”

A statement I wouldn’t have believed before, but do now. I may not be a leggy, stick-thin supermodel, and that’s okay. I’m me. And, he’s right; I am quite beautiful, both inside and out. I do a little curtsy. “Thank you, Mr. Darcy.”

He winks at me. “Now that I’ve watched every version of Pride and Prejudice known to man, including one with zombies, I understand the reference.”

“Indeed.” I wiggle my brows. “Now all we need to do is read the book.”

“I’m still burnt out on reading.” He taps a finger against his temple. “Med school.”

“Hmmm…” I tilt my head, grinning at him. “We could read it together, out loud.”

“That seems like a fair compromise.” He digs his keys out of his pocket. “Are you ready to go?”

I grab my purse. “Yep, I’m excited to see your nana again, thanks for inviting me.”

“She’s excited too.” A shadow crosses over his face.

“What’s wrong?” My heart speeds up.

“Nothing.” He rubs a hand over the back of his neck. “I’m—” He clears his throat. “I’m glad you’re coming with me.”

“Me too.”

We haven’t talked about what we’re doing. Or what it means. All conversations about our spending time together are off the table. I’m not sure if that’s wrong, it probably is, but I don’t want this to end and I’m afraid to bring it up. To push him, because I understand him now. Attachment makes him nervous, he doesn’t trust it. It’s too fragile for him to take a risk on.

Despite the hope I harbor, realistically, I’m fairly sure we’ll have to stop at some point. But I’m not ready yet. I matter to him, I know that, but I still can’t convince myself we’re going to end up together. Xavier is closed off to permanent relationships.

When it ends, I’ll have a broken heart, so I intend to make every second count.

Besides, what’s the rush? We have such a good time together.

I swing my purse over my shoulder, and start to walk out the door, but he stops me, swings me around and presses me up against the wall. “Tessa?”

“Yes, Xavier?”

“What are you doing to me?”

I want to say I’m loving him. Not because of his looks, or because he’s a doctor, but unconditionally. Words I have to keep hidden. Besides his nana, that’s something he’s never had before, and it makes him uneasy, because he’s going to have to risk his heart.

I lick my lower lip, and shake my head. “The same thing you’re doing to me.”

He leans down and kisses me, long and deep. Like he never wants to let me go, and a shiver races down my spine. When he lifts his head, he says, “I don’t want to stop.”

I touch his jaw, tracing it with my fingers. “Who says you have to?”

His expression creases. “I’m nervous.”

“About what?”

He blows out a breath. “I’m taking you to dinner at my grandma’s.”

“Yes, I know.”

“You don’t understand.”

“Then explain it to me.”

He straightens and drags a hand through his hair. “I’ve never taken anyone to dinner at my grandma’s. You’re the only one.”

I’d known this, but it thrills me he’s admitted it to me. I tread carefully. “It doesn’t have to mean anything if you don’t want it to.”

Frustration narrows his eyes. “I want it to mean something. It does mean something.”

My heart gives a hard thump. “What do you want it to mean?”

“You matter to me, Tessa.” His voice is filled with frustration.

I need to give him time, to adapt, so I say simply, “You matter to me too.”

A muscle in his jaw jumps. “I don’t know what I’m trying to say. I’m acting like an idiot.”

“No, you’re not.” I rise to my tiptoes and kiss his cheek. “I think you’re adorable.”

He straightens. “You take that back.”

I laugh. “I will not.” Then I duck under his arm and flounce out the door.

* * *

Tessa’s driving me right out of my mind.

I don’t know how she does it, but no matter how tense I am, she always manages to ease me. She’s got some sort of magic I can’t explain. Despite evidence to the contrary, I’m not an idiot. I know what’s happening.

I’m in a relationship with Tessa.

It has all the signs and it’s scaring the shit out of me. But every time I start to get nervous, she manages to soothe it out of me. And I want her too much to stop.

So here I am, taking her to my grandma’s for dinner.

Because I want to. Because it will make my nana and Tessa happy. Because she’s become important to me.

None of our friends know, although my group is on to me, sensing something is up since I’ve fallen virtually off the map. They keep asking, and I tell them I’m taking a break from manwhoring.

Which is true. I haven’t even thought about another woman.

At work a nurse propositioned me, and I didn’t even flicker.

I barely noticed, until Jace called it to my attention.

That’s when it hit me. What I’d been avoiding.

I was in a relationship with Tessa.

It’s not what I want, and it’s unspoken between us, but somehow it’s happened.

It makes me nervous. I thought about canceling on her.

When I’d been waiting for her to let me up to her apartment, I’d told myself to end it. To explain we couldn’t go on like this. I don’t want attachments. I don’t need a relationship in my life. I have too many other things I want to do. My main priority has always been my career and I don’t want that to change, that’s my focus and she can’t distract me from it.

I’d prepared my speech.

She’d opened the door, looking so pretty and sleek, her expression warm and inviting.

Resolve wavering, I’d held my ground.

Then she’d smiled at me. Whatever I was going to say melted from my mind and all I wanted to do was be with her.

So here we are, going to dinner with the only family that matters to me.

My nana opens the door, and gives us a broad smile, waving us inside her old, historic brownstone. “Come in, come in.” She kisses me on the cheek and then turns to Tessa, hugging her tightly. “It’s so lovely to see you again, dear girl.”

Tessa squeezes back, closing her eyes as though she’s trying to commit the embrace to memory. “You too. Thank you for having me.”

“The pleasure is all mine.” She walks us through the foyer and into the sitting room. “What can I get you to drink?”

She has a decanter set on a table for guests and it makes me smile, because Tessa will appreciate the old world charm.

“I’m good with whatever you have,” Tessa says, taking a seat on the loveseat.

I sit down next to her and say, “She likes bourbon, Nana.”

“Good, good.” Nana pours three bourbons and when we’re all settled in, sits down on the high-back chair across from us. “I must say this is a pleasant surprise. Although I will admit I hoped.”

Surprise flashes across Tessa’s features, and I know why. She never says it, but I know she thinks she’s not pretty enough for me. I don’t see it that way at all. In fact, the more I know her, the prettier she becomes. I’d go as far to say she’s too pretty for me.

She possesses all of the depth I lack.

That I’ve always lacked and never wanted anyone to see. She keeps waiting for me to tell her she’s not good enough for me, but the truth is, I’m waiting for the same from her. For her to realize she deserves someone that will touch her romantic soul, and breathe in all of her bone-deep commitment and love.

I clear my throat. “You hoped, huh?” I ask this question, not for myself, but for Tessa. So she can recognize in herself what others plainly see.

Nana gives me a sideways glance, and nods. “Yes, I hoped. You’re exactly the kind of woman I’d hope for Xavier.”

I experience a rush of heat across the back of my neck.

Tessa laughs and waves her hand in the air. “I’m sure that’s not true.”

“I can assure you it is.” Nana rolls her eyes. “Yes, I’m aware of the women in his past, but they were never going to give him what he truly needs.”

I want to move off this topic because it makes me wary and I’m not sure I want to hear the answer to why Nana believes that. I chuckle, feigning a casualness I don’t feel. “How about those Blackhawks?”

Tessa smiles at me. “I think you’re embarrassing him.”

“Indeed.” Nana chuckles and takes a sip of her drink. “But in any regards, I’m happy you’re here.”

“Me too,” Tessa says. “Your house is lovely. I love historic buildings.”

“My husband was big on preservation.”

Tessa turns to me. “Is this where you grew up?”

I nod. “For part of my childhood, after…” I trail off, not wanting to discuss my mother’s abandonment. A topic Tessa knows the bare minimum about.

Tessa’s brow furrows, and she glances back at my grandmother. “It must have been very hard to lose your son when he was so young.”

It sends a tiny shock wave through me, because it’s a subject most people avoid.

My nana’s eyes brighten. “It was. The hardest thing I’ve ever endured in my life.”

“I can’t imagine.” Tessa bites her lower lip. “A few years ago a boy in my class died suddenly and without warning. He was a sweet child, one of my favorites, I didn’t even know my heart could be that heavy. I can’t even fathom how it would be if it was your own.”

“I wouldn’t wish it on my worst enemy.” Nana’s expression fills with that longing sadness she used to wear often back in the beginning, and it still slips over her features on occasion.

“I’m sorry to bring up a painful subject,” Tessa says in her soft, soothing voice.

Nana smiles. “Not at all. It’s funny, when you lose a child, no one ever brings them up. It becomes a taboo topic, never to be discussed. But what people don’t realize, or understand, is that while it saves you from the sadness, it deprives you of the opportunity to relive the good memories too.”

“You’re right, I wouldn’t have thought of it that way.” Tessa sits forward, her expression intent and interested. “Would you like to tell me a good memory? You don’t have to if you don’t want to, but I’d love to hear.”

This is the way Tessa is. The way she invites people in and wraps them up in her warmth and makes them safe.

It’s how I feel when I’m inside her. That it’s not just sex, but that we’re connected, and she’s with me one hundred percent. I experience a strange tightness in my throat that threatens to choke me.

“I would love to, sweet girl.” Nana’s face softens, and it occurs to me how much it costs her never to speak of my father. Her only child that she’s lived without for so many years. She sighs. “It’s hard to choose a favorite.”

“I’m sure,” Tessa says, nodding, her complete focus on my grandmother.

“One of my favorites was when he was a teenager. When you have kids, they do these things, and as a parent you have to scold them something fierce, but in the privacy of your marriage, you laugh hysterically at their sheer audacity. Once, Daniel was infatuated with a girl, and decided he needed to go to her house and make a grand romantic gesture in the middle of the night. So he fashioned my best bed sheets into a rope, climbed onto the roof, tied the sheets to the chimney and tried to shimmy down the side of the house to make his escape. Of course, being a teenager, he didn’t think it through and his feet kept banging along the side of the house, including our bedroom window. My husband was waiting for him when he hit the ground.”

I smile, it’s a story I’ve heard before, but watching Tessa makes it brand new. Her face lights up with amusement, radiating from her skin and casting her in a glow.

Nana laughs, waving a hand. “We grounded him, of course, and made a big fuss about it, but when we closed our bedroom door we had a good laugh, remembering our own young love.”

“Do you have a picture?” Tessa asks, putting her drink down on the coffee table separating us. “I’d love to see him.”

Nana stands up, and walks over to a table filled with photographs. She picks two of them up and comes back to us, handing one to Tessa. “This was him when he was just starting college.”

Tessa’s fingers skim over the frame, a picture of my dad, sitting on the porch steps, smiling and happy. She turns to look at me. “You look just like him.”

I nod. “Yeah, that’s what everyone says.”

“Both Xavier and my son take after my husband,” she says, before taking a drink. “Little carbon copies of each other.”

Tessa’s lips curve. “He’s very handsome.”

I can’t help it, I curl and arm around her and kiss her temple.

My grandmother couldn’t look more pleased. She picks up the other picture and hands it over to Tessa. “This is perhaps my favorite picture of Xavier and his father.”

I look down at the picture, already knowing which one it is. You can’t see my father’s face, only strong arms and a broad back and the hint of a profile. He’s throwing me high in the air when I’m probably two years old. The sun is shining, bright, and we’re both wearing white shirts. My legs and arms are spread wide and my face is filled with unadulterated joy.

Whenever I’d looked at the picture in the past, I’d always thought I couldn’t remember when I’d felt that kind of happiness. But as I look at it today, my heart gives a hard thump. I glance at Tessa.

She makes me feel that kind of happiness.

I frown as a rush of loss races across my skin, followed quickly by panic.

She can break me. If I let her, she’ll tear down every wall I’ve ever resurrected to insulate myself. She’ll make me care. Love.

The second the word rips through my mind, the panic escalates and I ease back from her. Where she’d been pressed against my side leaves me cold. Empty.

I know what I need to do. I need to end it, before anyone gets hurts.

Before too much damage has been done.

Before it’s too late.