I circle the lot at Sunny Oaks for the hundredth time. The first two rows of spaces are all dedicated resident parking for employees, the remaining spots filled with car after car, all gleaming in the midmorning sunlight. My stomach jumps with nerves. What’s Chase going to be like when I finally get to see him after all this time? Will he be the man I fell in love with? Or will he be some sort of shell of that guy, one with his eyes and his smile, but an inside that doesn’t quite fit?

I stayed awake most of the night, the excitement of seeing him making it impossible to get a good night’s rest. In a couple of more weeks, I’ll be back to take him home.

Walking into the lobby feels like I’m at a resort. Water cascades over rocks and trickles into a koi pond. The sound is soothing as I make my way to the desk to sign in. The woman behind the counter smiles, her dark purple lipstick doing her face no favors. “He never stops talking about you,” she says, handing me a My Name Is sticker with the letters K, A, and T written in blue Sharpie. For some reason, I’m reminded of Chase’s fingers. The blue-black letters permanently inked into each long digit. Overcome. A simple word, two little syllables that mean so much.

“Go on into the lounge. I’ll have someone let Chase know you’re here.”

“Thanks.” I offer a polite grin and head in the direction where she pointed me. My shoes echo on the marble tile, but a vast area rug swallows the sound as I pass through. This place is another miracle I’ve yet to properly thank Erik for. The favors are piling up now. I’m going to have to give him my firstborn child to repay him for all he’s done. A stupid grin rolls across my face like I’m drunk on hormones. My fingertips graze my stomach. At eight weeks, it’s still too early for anyone to see. A small, bloated belly that’s barely visible now but will be big and round before I know it.

The low din of a hundred voices greets me in the lounge. People sitting at tables, strewn about couches and loveseats, all smiling, chatting, laughing. A happy reunion, seeing their loved ones well again. A cold chill crosses my skin. The room buzzes with fresh hope, but how many will truly make it? Relapse rates after rehab are a staggering forty to sixty percent. It’s scary to think I could be back here someday. Visitor or patient.

My eyes scan the sea of faces for only one, but I feel his tender gaze caress my skin first. His lopsided grin sets a blaze in my heart that ignites like a brushfire. It eats through my self-control, propelling me across the room, tears plummeting from my face. He looks so good. The image of his Crypt Keeper face has invaded my dreams for the past two weeks, eyes usually full of kindness and love a barren wilderness of nothing. That’s what hurt the most. Looking into his face and seeing a stranger.

But the man I know stands before me now, love seeping through his warm smile as he opens his arms and swallows me in his warm embrace. “I missed you so much!” I gush into his neck, breathing him in as if I can drag his lifeforce inside me. I didn’t just fall in love with him once. With every glance, every grin, and every kiss, I fall again. I worried he might be gone forever, but he’s here, holding me so close to his body I feel his heartbeat against mine, and I never want to let go of him again.

“You’re the best-looking thing I’ve seen in weeks.”

“I look like ass!” I tell him, wiping the tears from beneath my makeup-free eyes. I prepared for the sob fest. A new emotion hits me every five seconds, and waterproof mascara can only do so much. Being pregnant is a bitch.

“No,” he coos, cupping my face in his tattooed hands. The very ones that hold my heart. “You look beautiful. Always.”

“So do you.”

His heated stare drops to my belly, his fingers splayed out over my fitted tee. “How’s my little buddy doing?”

“Still cookin’,” I answer with another wide smile. Jeezaloo, what happened to me? One minute, I’m having grand delusions of starting my own skincare line, and the next, I’m fantasizing about tiny shoes and planning a nursery. Chase and me and baby makes three type of hokey bullshit. I’m so going to become one of those annoying Pinterest moms.

Just as soon as I’ve taken care of my drug-addicted baby daddy.

“C’mon.” He takes my hand and pulls me through the mass of people. “Let’s get outta here.”

A nervous giggle leaves my lips. “Where are we going?”

“It’s too loud in there. I don’t want to share you with all those people.” Chase pokes his head around the corner and looks around before leading me into the hall. The whole thing seems overly scandalous. Like Romeo and Juliet. Two star-crossed lovers stealing down the corridors for a solitary moment of privacy.

Rows of open doors break up the sunny yellow walls. Between two of them, a huge whiteboard hangs. “I have been given endless talents which I will begin to utilize today,” I read aloud, my voice hushed and far too cheery given the setting. I turn to Chase with a sarcastic smirk. “Endless talents, huh?”

He raises his pierced brow and pushes me backward through the doorway across from it. “Talent’s gonna have to wait until we have more time.” He slips his large palm behind my head, his fingers digging into the long black hair spilling down my back, and drops his mouth to mine. The touch of his lips rushes through me like a heavy rainstorm after a desert drought. Drips and drops of desire pool in my blood, soaking in the initial taste of his mouth and the feel of his tongue twirling with mine.

His breath fills my mouth. I link my arms around his neck, pushing to my toes to get closer. The sound of his moan is thick with want. Half a growl that falls into a sigh as I lean against him with all my weight. Tucked in his crow-covered arms, I feel my pulse flutter like the delicate butterfly spanning his neck. My beautiful man, hard and inked, with the fierce heart of a child.

“Kat, baby, wait.” I pull back enough to see Chase’s fiery gaze soften. It swirls with a mix of emotions storming through his turquoise stare. The soft pink glitter of my gloss streaks across his bow tie lips. He pulls on the silver ring, gripping it with his teeth before letting it pop back out. “We can’t . . .” The words, while breathless and meek, still lodged in his throat. His Adam's apple bobs as he swallows them down and starts over. “I haven't been properly tested. I've made a lot of shitty choices lately, and I won't chance this.” He sweeps a lock of blue-black hair off my forehead then weaves it behind my ear. “I just needed to kiss you, claim you again in case I don't get another chance.”

“You have years of chances ahead of you, Chase.”

He runs his hand through his shaggy hair. It hangs over his ears in adorable little wings. He usually keeps it trimmed close to his scalp, but with everything that’s happened, he’s in desperate need of a haircut. I kind of like it, though. All that darkness surrounding him makes his clear eyes stand out. “Saying I'm sorry isn't enough sometimes . . .” He trails off, emotion glittering in his eyes. My heart, as fluttery as it was a few minutes ago, suddenly feels like a stone in my chest. “I just . . . I dunno. Needed to feel you again before I make amends.”

“Stop, Chase. You don’t need to make amends to me.”

“No, Kat. I do. I’ve done so much that you don’t even know about. We can’t start our lives on a bed of lies. I tried that already, and my former life crept back with a vengeance.” He reaches behind him and pulls out a composition book. The whole thing is bent in half, the heavy crease cutting the marbled cover almost in two. With his gaze fixed on the book in his hands, he swipes past page after page of pencil-written text until he comes to the one he’s looking for. “God, this is hard,” he whispers, tonguing the corner of his mouth. The little ring bobs back and forth a few beats before he collects himself enough to start.

They say ignorance is bliss, and that statement is true. I could have lived forever never knowing the things he admits, but I understand his reasons behind them. Forgiveness. Anger is a weight that only gets heavier as time goes on. It sits on your shoulders and fills your pockets, dragging you under, poisoning everything that’s good until nothing is left but the anger itself.

We’re here because of Chase’s inability to forgive.

He never forgave his father.

He never forgave his mother.

He never forgave Desiree.

Worst of all, he never forgave himself.

So I sit through his awful amends, trying my best to dig deep into my soul to find the strength I need to forgive him, too. For my own sanity, my own piece of mind, and my own sobriety.