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I’m either a genius or a fool. When Milly walked into the bathroom, and I heard the sound she made, for a flash of an instant, I thought my fantasy had just gotten very vivid. I shouldn’t have invited her to join me, I shouldn’t have told her I’ve been thinking of her while my fist was so obviously wrapped around my cock. But, seeing her standing there, like my fantasy had come true, made it impossible to resist.

I’m glad she had the sense to walk away because if she hadn’t, I would have stepped out of the shower and dragged her in with me and fucked her senseless.

I hate waiting for anything, and right now, Milly is standing on the other side of a door that was kicked shut by my idiotic scheme and then, my stupider words. If I want her to open it again, I’ve got to win her trust. The conversations this will require are riddled with potential landmines that could derail any progress we make. But, high-risk also means high reward. If we can get past the issues in our path, I know I can have her back.

I’m downstairs in front of my laptop, watching the clock so that I can leave the house on time to get to Anthony’s school. I heard her shower running when I stepped out into the hallway upstairs, and I know she’s going to come down and talk to me in a few minutes. She probably has a million questions and also wants me to get the hell out of her house.

I hear her footsteps coming down the stairs, and I feel like a man waiting to hear a judgment from a jury. But I’m not going down without a fight.

“Dean?” she calls out as she reaches the foyer.

I sit up straight before I respond, “I’m in here.”

She walks into the living room, and although her steps are tentative, she's looking directly at me. She looks relieved, which lightens some of the tension floating in my shoulders.

She sits down next to me on the couch, and I take that as a good sign. Without the preamble of niceties, she dives right in.

“So, tell me everything. But start with Friday. I don’t understand why you were even here.”

Her hands are clasped in front of her and she's playing with her cuticle. It’s something she used to do when we were in school. It’s her tell. Even when she appeared outwardly calm, I’d know she was nervous when I saw her doing this. I shift slightly so I'm facing her and start talking.

“I had just come back from New York. I had been feeling like a total ass because of our last conversation, and I was coming to apologize.” I twist my lips in a wry smile.

She doesn’t smile back.

“Okay. But, you just showed up at my house. Why didn’t you call me? I don’t understand your aversion to doing things the normal way.”

Her eyes roam my face. She doesn’t sound angry, just genuinely confused. I want to be honest, but I’m trying to pace myself.

“I didn’t think you would take a call from me. And I wanted to talk face-to-face. What I did, how I treated you, what I said to you, was wrong. I don’t have an excuse. I had been walking around for years with ideas and hopes and then in November they were completely obliterated. It felt like you disappearing all over again. But this time, I knew where you were. You were someone’s wife. You were someone’s mother, and you had been for a long time. I was angry and acted like an unmitigated asshole.”

That confession sounds pathetic to my own ears, but it is the sincerest truth I can offer right now.

Milly exhales loudly and looks away. Her shoulder hunch and she wraps her arms around her waist. When she looks back at me her eyes are angry; her voice is low and slow when she speaks, as if she’s trying to control the incredulity that coats her next question.

“Are you telling me you haven’t had a relationship with anyone because you were waiting for me?”

I respond, determined to be honest even as it exposes my hypocrisy. “I forced myself to move on. I was in college, working, then in business school, and then working my way up the ladder at the firm and I’ve never really slowed down long enough to give myself time to think about relationships. But my ex, who was my fiancée for a few months, she was part of the same world I work in. And—”

“I don’t need details. I really don’t,” she says sharply, her golden eyes sliding over me and shutting me up.

“I’m sorry, Mil. I’m fucking nervous,” I say self-consciously and run my hands through my hair. I’ve never been able to hide from Milly. I’ve never wanted to. I don’t want to start now. I missed the freedom that comes from being completely honest. Even when I know Milly isn't happy with me, I also know I can trust her with the truth.

“I’m nervous, too, Dean. So nervous. I don’t know what to do with any of this. I don’t know what to do with us,” she says quietly and looks down.

“I don’t either. I’m still trying to wrap my head around the fact that I’m here with you. Looking at you. You’re close enough I can smell you. I never thought I’d have that again.”

“Dean . . .” Her voice is laced with caution and sadness.

“I’m not saying I have you, Milly, but I won’t lie and say I don’t want you,” I persist.

I take her hand gently into my own and put my thumb over hers to still the nervous motion of her fingers. She doesn’t pull her hand away, and I take this as my cue to continue.

“Cristal got your email. She sent it to me, and I told her I’d take care of it.” She tenses.

“I can’t take the job. You never would have given me the time of day if you hadn’t been so hell-bent on your stupid plot for revenge.” Her voice is full of exasperation and very firm. Shit.

“Okay, maybe,” I start and her eyebrows shoot to the top of her forehead as she gawks at me.

“Fine, you’re right. No maybe,” I concede, but I'm not chagrined. “But I only told Cristal to interview you. I didn’t ask her to hire you. I really just wanted to see you again. To ask you questions that have been burning me alive for months—years. I knew you were married, I didn’t feel like I could just show up at your door and have the kind of conversation I wanted to have with you. So, I did something stupid.

“But this doesn’t mean you aren’t qualified. Please, take the job. I promise not to interfere, and I promise Cristal won’t cut you any slack. She has worked for me since the beginning, and she's as invested in this expansion as I am.”

“I don’t know,” she says, but I can sense she wants to say yes, so I push.

“I won’t be involved at all. If you’re worried about that, I promise,” I say, and I mean it. I’ll give her a wide berth if it’s what she needs.

She leans back on the couch, exposing her neck and I stifle a groan. That beautiful café au lait column of skin is begging for my kiss. She takes a deep breath, and I know she's thinking. So, I don’t say another word. I’ve already pushed too hard. I just need to let her make up her mind.

She sits up after a minute and without looking at me directly, which is so unlike her says, “I don’t know. I just need to think. Please don’t think I'm not grateful to you for being here when I was sick. I don’t know how I would have managed if you hadn’t come by. I can never say thank you enough.” She's playing with her thumb again.

“I feel a ‘but’ coming,” I prompt, trying to keep the disappointment from creeping into my voice.

“But, after what just happened in the bathroom, I’m not sure it’s a good idea for you to stay here.” She pulls her hand away and lowers her lashes.

Fuck this.

“Milly, you walked in on me in the shower and you stayed. I was thinking about you when you walked in. You looked like you wanted to join me, so I extended the offer.”

I grab her hand again. This time I turn it palm up and caress the pads of her fingers.

I look at her and see that her face, her beautiful face with its hues of caramel and honey, is flushed, her eyes watching our joined hands. I decide to leave it alone and go back to our original conversation.

“I won’t interfere with your party planning. I promise.” I tug at her hand to get her to look at me. And when she does, what I see in her eyes causes my hope to surge like a geyser. Her expression says, she doesn’t want me to go, she doesn’t want to say no to me, and she's feeling everything I'm feeling.

It’s like the time we lost just disappeared. I know it hasn’t. But it fucking feels like it. I know we can’t just pick up where we left off, but I want to pick up where we are now.

“I’d like the chance to get to know you again. You were my best friend.”

Her eyes search mine and mine search hers. I see everything she feels—she never could hide from me. Her confusion, her fear, her joy . . . and I just decide to lay it all out. “I love you. I never stopped feeling that way, and I know that you feel it, too.” This makes her head snap up.

“Dean—” I cut her off. I feel like I'm standing on the edge of a cliff and there is a fifty-fifty chance I’ll soar or I’ll crash. I decide to jump because I’d rather crash trying to fly than be safe without her. And the upside is so sweet, I can barely think straight.

“I want a chance, Milly. With you. For us. I know a lot of water has passed under this bridge, and I know we have a lot to talk about. But, I also know I’ve never needed another human being before you. And I need you. I remember myself, the real me, when I’m with you. I remember who I was before everything went to shit.”

“Dean—” She's more aggressive this time, but I'm determined to get it all out.

“Please, you don’t have to say anything right now. Just think about it. I feel like I’ve been given a second chance, and I don’t want to lose you again.” I know I'm begging, but nothing has ever felt more important than this.

“Dean! Stop!” she shouts and looks startled by her own voice.

I stop, but I don’t unlink our hands. I don’t look away from her. I want her to see my unflinching determination.

She releases a long breath and her shoulders relax.

“I don’t know what to say. In the last week, you’ve completely thrown me for a loop. Seeing you again. Finding out you set the whole thing up so that you could talk to me. Getting sick and waking up to find you in my house. Finding out you’ve been here for three days, living here, taking care of my son—of me. That alone is a lot to process. But everything you’ve just said is a lot to absorb. I need time to think.”

Her eyes are shining as bright as freshly polished gold coins. I see a plea for patience in them and I decide to back off.

“Do you want me to leave?” Right now, I’d do whatever she asked. I know I’ve pushed her enough for today, and the last thing I want is to make Milly uncomfortable in her own home.

She considers me for a long moment, her eyes always the window to her heart, answering the question before she speaks.

“No, I don’t. I’ve missed you, too. But don’t you have to get back to your own place? You must have so much else to do besides staying here to take care of me.”

“Actually, I have been working pretty well from here. Cristal rescheduled all of my meetings this week, and I’ve been able to do most of them by phone. I had my suitcase in the car, so I’ve got everything I need. And I don’t want to leave you. Or little dude. I do need to get back to New York on Friday, but until then, I’m at your disposal.” I look at her hopefully while she considers me for a long moment.

“Okay, well, I won’t turn down the offer for an extra pair of hands and for the chance to spend some time with you. And thank you for taking care of Anthony,” she says with a shy smile.

She glances at her watch.

“Speaking of, it’s almost time to go and get him.”

I grab my phone from the table. “I have an alarm set. I’ve been using it to make sure I leave the house on time every day.”

She smiles. “Really? Wow, Dean. I don’t even know how you figured it all out.”

“Well, you’ve got a smart kid who knows his schedule. And I looked up the school’s address online. He’s easy and fun. You’ve done a great job with him.”

She beams at me, her pride obvious. “Yeah, he's pretty great. I’m glad he wasn’t any trouble.”

I grin. “I didn’t say that. He hates doing his spelling homework and probably conned me into giving him way too many snacks.”

She laughs out loud at this. “He’s very persuasive when he wants something.” Her laugh turns into a cough and it reminds me she’s still sick and hasn’t eaten anything since I got here.

“Hey, you must be starving. The doctor said to start you off with bland food. Can I get you some toast?”

“I’m actually really tired again, but I'm so hungry I could eat my own foot,” she says with another smile that is so her it totally disarms me.

“Okay, let me get you something. Sit here, and while you’re eating I’ll run and get Anthony. He’ll probably tackle you the minute he sees you’re out of your room.”

I stand up and head toward the kitchen. But there’s so much left unspoken between us, and I know we have a lot more to talk about before I can start to relax. But fuck me, look how far we’ve just come.