23
| LOGAN |
She’s holding her breath so I of course dip down to give her my version of a little mouth-to-mouth. I want to be sure her brain has all the oxygen it needs for this next part.
“Before you, it was easy to have no-meaning flings,” I say matter-of-factly. “And frankly, it wasn’t really much skin off my dick to keep things like that for the past nine years.”
I lock my eyes on hers and say with all the certainty I feel, “I noticed you that first day you walked back into our lives, that first day you climbed in here five years ago. There was something different about you; I almost didn’t recognize you as the same girl from college. Then I watched you go up that wall and you took my fucking breath away. You loved it up there…bad as you were at it back then.”
She gives me an annoyed look and I can’t help but marvel over how sexy that is too. There isn’t much I don’t find unbelievably cute about this woman.
“I think a part of me knew from even back then that if I was going to love a woman again, that it’d be you. I didn’t get full confirmation of that until recently though.”
I shake my head, surprised I’m talking this much about my feelings—the woman really is gifted at this therapy stuff. “The idea of loving you…yeah, it was scary, and yeah, it made me feel guilty. But not because of Janine.”
She nods in understanding. “Because of the vow you made the day Hannah was born.”
“I spent her whole life living my whole life this way. I basically didn’t know how to live it any differently. Still don’t in fact.”
Resting my forehead against hers, I admit softly, “I love you so damn much, Nicole. I love how amazing you are with your students, how incredible you are with my kid. And I fucking love when we’re together.” I press gentle kisses on her cheeks, after brushing away the tears wetting them.
“Logan, I don’t want you to feel guilty about putting me second to your daughter. I’d never expect anything more than that.”
I smile. No, of course she wouldn’t. And that’s what makes her perfect. “How about tied for first? That sound okay to you? Sound all psychologically healthy and stuff?”
More nodding. And more silence. Don’t think I’ve ever heard the woman be this quiet before. It’s a bit disconcerting.
“Now,” I say. “I’m going to ask you again. Do you love me?”
“Yes,” she answers quickly. No hesitation this time.
Best feeling ever.
“Tell me the truth, now that you know the whole story, are you going to start harping on me doing some kind of therapy or something to hash out all my buried feelings and stuff?” I ask, completely serious.
“Oh, my goodness, I’m so glad you brought it up first,” she replies, just as seriously. “I can pencil you in for next week after my regulars.”
I chuckle. Me and my big mouth. “Depends. Are you going to start telling folks—and by that, I mean the whole damn world—that you love me?” I demand in question form. “Your parents included? I don’t care if they have hollow tin chests, they’re going to damn well know we love each other.”
She grins. “Yes, and yes.”
“Are you going to make sure Hannah knows how much you love her? Because she needs to hear it. Every day. I know your folks didn’t do that, and you’re not used to it, but—”
“Yes,” she interrupts softly. “And what’s more, I’ll want to hear you both tell me the same.”
Jesus, why the hell was I such an idiot for the past five years?
“OMG, Dad, just kiss her already!” hollers Hannah over the speaker intercom system blasting through the entire gym. The one we use only for fire drills.
I grin my ass off.
“You did that,” I tell Nicole, with no small amount of pride and gratitude. “My once shy, quiet little girl is now that crazy bullhorn-wielding bundle of badass over there.”
Nicole chuckles and points over to the big wall TV, currently broadcasting a live feed of my office. We both look up at the far climbing wall and see Derick up there with a video camera, waving.
“We’re recording through your window,” says Hannah, grinning. “So, make it romantic, you guys.”
I do my damndest.
After all the clapping dies down, and the camera is no longer rolling, I gaze down at the incredible woman in my arms and tell her simply, “You’re moving back to our place tonight.”
“And here I thought we’d made progress on the asking instead of demanding thing,” she comments, not sounding terribly bent out of shape over it. “We need to address these bossy tendencies of yours. There are some great therapeutic strategies that can—”
I grab her chin and tilt her head back to kiss her again. Not because I don’t want to hear her go all full-shrink on me, but because her talking like this really is becoming some kind of inexplicable turn-on.
“You know,” she says when she manages to catch her breath. “That tying one hand behind your back thing would also be very helpful in this situation.” She smiles shyly up at me. “Same goes for the blindfold…”
Holy hell.
“I do want to support your psychological endeavors,” I say magnanimously as I reach over to pull shut my newly-installed office blinds and yank my phone cord out of its wall socket.
“How about we start my therapy right now?”