“You’re coming back, aren’t you?” Natalie clutches my hand, staring up at me with pitiful eyes as Jackson and I prepare to leave.

My heart breaks a little and I’m awash with guilt that I’m going away from her and taking her daddy along with me.

I lean down and hug her, wishing I felt only her body and not her chair. “Of course I’m coming back.” I kiss her cheek.

“Stop working her over, Nat.” Jackson’s voice behind me is stern.

I release her and glare at him.

He shakes his head. “Don’t look at me like that? She’s the monster, not me.”

“Daddy, please,” Natalie says in that adult tone she has. “I’m not a monster.”

“You’re piling on the guilt, so you can knock it off, we’ll be home tomorrow night.”

“But it’s a whole day away,” she whines.

“You’ll survive.” Jackson crosses his arms over his broad chest.

Can’t he see she’s suffering? Before I can say anything his sister speaks up.

“We’ll keep you busy.” Cat puts her hand on Natalie’s chair.

Her face scrunches up and she wails, “You’re not Daddy and you’re not Gwen, I want them. Not you.”

“Hey,” Jackson says, his voice whipping through the air. “Knock it off and apologize to your aunt.”

Natalie pouts. “Sorry, Aunt Cat.”

She runs a hand over the little girl’s hair. “I promise we’ll have fun. You won’t even know they’re gone.”

Natalie’s lower lip quivers as though she’s about to cry. “What if I shake?”

Oh. My. God. I can’t stand it. It’s killing me. I turn to Jackson, mouth already open to suggest we can’t leave.

Before I can speak he says, “Don’t even pull that on me.”

How can he be so cruel?

“Uncle Wyatt and I will take care of you if you shake.” Cat waves at us. “You go ahead and go.”

I look helplessly down at Natalie. “I’ll be back in twenty-four hours.”

Her eyes well with tears and she says in a tiny voice, “Do you promise?”

“I promise,” I vow, hugging her tight again.

“For god’s sake.” Jackson’s tone is exasperated and he pulls me away and stands in front of Natalie. “Come on, give me a kiss goodbye.”

I will be having words with him in the car.

Cat smiles at me. “Don’t worry, everything is going to be fine. She’ll survive, I promise.”

I feel a bit tearful myself, and I try not to think about what Friday will bring when I’m leaving for good. When I have to say goodbye forever.

I nod. “Okay, but you’ll call, right? If she needs anything?”

Cat touches my arm. “Of course I will, but she won’t need anything.”

I give Natalie another kiss goodbye while Jackson practically drags me away.

We settle into the car and make it down the driveway before I turn on him. “You didn’t have to be so mean.”

He rolls his eyes. “She’s playing you.”

“How can you say that? She’s five.”

“Because I know my daughter and she’s conning you.”

I huff, crossing my arms and jerking back into my seat. “She’s not a con artist.”

“Oh, believe me, she is.”

“So you’re saying she’s not upset we’re abandoning her?” I’ve never felt this before, this…unbelievable sense of guilt. Like I’m doing something terrible. Like she’ll never get over it.

Jackson laughs a little. “We’re not abandoning her, we’re taking a twenty-four-hour break. Cat will distract her, and she’ll be fine in fifteen minutes.”

I think on this, and although it doesn’t sit well with me, she is Jackson’s daughter and he knows her better than me. “Are you sure?”

“Trust me, she’s a good actress and she was trying to get to you.” He reaches over and takes my hand, pressing it to his lips. “I can’t blame her for angling to keep you for herself.”

His mouth is soft on my skin, and I shiver a little when his tongue flicks against the pulse at my wrist. He glances at me. “I need to be alone with you, Gwen. I need you all to myself for a bit.”

It’s the most revealing thing he’s ever said to me and I blink, wide eyed, before leaning over and scraping my teeth against his jaw. “That’s the bright spot, twenty-four hours alone.”

“Exactly.”

I lean back in the seat and we fall silent. I stare out the windows. It’s so much lusher here. So green. So different from the urban sprawl I’m used to.

I can’t quite enjoy it yet because I keep seeing Natalie’s watery eyes shining up at me. I swallow hard. “I feel so guilty.”

He squeezes. “Welcome to parenthood, darlin’.”

I catch my breath, the shock of it running through me. I squint my eyes, not taking my gaze off the scenery. Is that what it feels like?

It’s…awful. Wonderful.

And almost over.

The city is awesome. We’re sitting at the famous Café du Monde and I’m licking powder sugar off my fingers, closing my eyes in ecstasy. “Oh my god, this is like heaven in my mouth.”

The fried dough covered in a mound of powder sugar that gets everywhere is as spectacular as I’ve always heard. Every bite I take makes me crave it more.

Jackson laughs, leans over and licks the sugar from my lips. “I told you.”

“I want another one.”

He shakes his head. “We’ve got a lot of places left to try, you’ll ruin your appetite.”

“I won’t, I swear.” I take a sip of the café au lait. Even though I take my coffee black, Jackson insisted I try it the traditional way, and of course he was right. I wouldn’t drink it this way all the time because I’d be five hundred pounds, but it’s perfect with the beignets.

“How about this? We’ll go to all the places I have in mind and then come back here for dessert if you still want it, sound good?”

I tilt my head and pretend to think about it. “I can make that deal.”

I still feel twinges of guilt over leaving Natalie, but I can’t deny I’m loving this. I adore exploring a new city, especially one as historic as New Orleans. I push the last bite into my mouth and chew slowly, savoring the taste. “So. Damn. Good.”

He shakes his head at me. “You know the first time I saw you eat I knew I was done for.”

I raise a brow. “Oh yeah? Why’s that?”

He puts his elbows on the table. “You eat like you fuck.”

Our eyes meet and that constant tension fills the air. “And how do I fuck?”

He doesn’t hesitate. “With complete abandon, utter surrender and insatiable greed.”

My skin grows warm, even though he’d been inside me not even an hour ago. “Well, Jackson McKay, that’s downright poetic.”

He chuckles. “About as poetic as I’m going to get.”

“True. Good thing I like you dirty.” I grin at him. “Where are we going next?”

He juts his chin toward the back of us. “I thought we’d walk through the graveyards.”

“That sounds fabulous.” I pat my flat stomach. “Work off some calories before round two.”

“Don’t worry, darlin’, I plan on putting you through quite a vigorous workout.”

“I’d hope so.” I put the napkin on my plate. “Let’s go.”

Soon we’re strolling hand in hand through the tombs, and he gives me an extensive lecture on the burial process that’s actually pretty impressive. I listen happily, light and free, choosing to forget the troubles ahead.

When I’d come to Louisiana, this is the last thing on earth I’d ever expected to find and I still can’t believe it most of the time.

It’s strange to be walking through this city with him. Like we are a real couple instead of two people trying desperately to screw each other out of their systems as fast as possible.

It’s the hardest thing about us. The more time passes, the more it feels real, the deeper I get.

I do love him.

I’d never really thought I’d fall in love with a man, and here I am.

Destined for a broken heart.

All those men in Chicago, and I couldn’t pick one of them? No, I had to go and pick a difficult genius chef that lives in another state.

When he finally takes a breath I look up at him. “Is there anything you’re not good at?”

“I can list about a hundred.” He slips his arms around my waist. “Come on, I know just where we’re going next.”

“Where?”

“Acme Oysters.”

“I love oysters.”

“And you’re going to love these,” he promises, taking me by the hand.

The weather is hot and humid, and the sun is too bright, but I can’t remember a time where my life felt so perfect. So complete. As we walk, we spot a girl in her twenties sitting on the street, with a typewriter and a sign that says Street Poetry.

I point to her. “I have to go see.”

This isn’t something you’d get in Chicago and I drag him across the traffic-filled street to stop in front of her.

She smiles at us. “Hi, it’s five dollars for a poem. You pick the subject.”

I grin at her. “How many people pick love?”

She laughs. “About ninety percent. Want to give me a challenge?”

I glance up at Jackson. “What do you think?”

“Up to you,” he says, rubbing my back.

I study him, thinking about the way he makes me feel and I finally settle on a word. I shift my attention back to the girl. “Brazen.”

Her gaze lights up. “Ooohhh, that’s a good one.”

She begins to type on her old black Royal and I take in the sounds of the street, the city, and her clicking keys. All is right in the world.

There’s no past. No future.

Just us. Here and now. In our complete, brazen perfection.

Gwen and I are lying in bed, and I’m running my fingers up and down her smooth skin, feeling more relaxed than I have in forever.

She sighs, stretching her long, lean body. “Oh my god, is it just me or is this heaven?”

I smile. “I think this might be heaven, darlin’.”

She turns toward me, propping her head on her hand. Her hair streams over her shoulders and pools on the white hotel sheets. She grins at me. “What am I going to do with you?”

“You out of ideas?” I make light of the statement because she means it the way I’m taking it, but I can’t quite ignore the thread of truth in her question.

It’s one I ask myself constantly, and I’m sure she does the same.

Time is somehow going slowly yet far too quickly simultaneously. Every day that passes brings Gwen one step closer to leaving, but every second ingrains her deeper into my life.

Into me.

“I don’t think I’d ever run out of ideas with you.” A shadow passes over her beautiful face.

I don’t want to think about the fast-approaching day when she’ll be gone, but it’s getting harder and harder to avoid the subject. I kiss her, just a brush over her mouth. There was a time it would have turned urgent and frantic, not knowing if it was the last, but that’s not the case now.

I have a few more days to be leisurely.

“You let me know if it’s a struggle and I’ll help you out,” I say.

She blows out a deep breath. “I don’t want to ruin our time here.”

“Then don’t.” My heartbeat kicks up as panic slices through me like a blade.

She runs her fingers through her hair. “Okay.”

My jaw clenches tight. “I know we need to talk about it.”

“We do.”

I meet her eyes. “Has anything changed?”

I don’t know what I’m asking exactly. Or why I’m even continuing on when she’s agreed to drop it, but now it sits between us.

“Everything’s changed, Jackson.” Her voice is soft, more tentative than I’ve ever heard it.

“I know.”

I’m in deep. She’s in deep. Natalie is in deep.

We’re all drowning with no sign of rescue.

She glances away, looking over my shoulder. “I wish things were different.”

“Me too.”

She swallows hard. “I have something to tell you.”

“I’m listening.” My chest squeezes as adrenaline rushes through my system. My body preparing for a fight-or-flight reaction.

I know my MO but I don’t want to choose flight.

“It’s getting harder and harder not to say it, to pretend.” Her voice trembles.

I go tense all over, but I nod. “So say it.”

“I’ve never said this to anyone.”

“Okay.”

She meets my gaze, and she looks so uncertain my tension jacks up by a thousand. “I’m afraid.”

I wait, no longer breathing.

“I’m not sure how you’re going to take it.”

I have no idea what she’s going to say, but Gwen is not a woman to be afraid lightly. “I’ll take it the best I can.”

She nibbles on her bottom lip and I want to hurry her along, to quell the anticipation, but I also want her never to say whatever is on the tip of her tongue.

That’s how it is with Gwen, a never-ending cycle of wanting too much and forcing myself to accept too little.

I stay silent.

She fidgets, her gaze darts away, then comes to rest back on me.

As she struggles, I struggle too.

With the panic. The fear. The notion that whatever she says will change things between us. I need for them to stay the same. At least until I can no longer avoid the inevitable.

She sucks air into her lungs then slowly exhales.

I’m paralyzed, helpless and watching her.

She finally meets my eyes and they are bright and brimming with unshed tears. “I’m in love with you.”

Her words are like a sucker punch, and I can only stare at her unblinking.

One wet track falls down her cheek and she brushes it away like she’s almost angry. “I know I’m not supposed to be, I know that’s the last thing you want, I know you warned me and I tried, really I did, but I can’t help it. It’s ironic because I’ve never loved a man before and I had to go pick someone like you.”

I still can’t speak.

In this suspended moment, for the first time, I understand my father. This woman has swept into my life and told me she loves me, and this is what I think of.

That I understand him.

I see the appeal of just walking away so I don’t have to face the truth of what’s in front of me. Why sometimes it would be better not to have answers because there are no easy ones. Only cold, hard truth.

I hate when I feel like him.

And right now I feel like him.

I want to get up, put on my clothes and walk out the door.

With my past, I’ve always prided myself on not being like him when the chips are down. Even when things are at their worst, and I’m up in the middle of the night watching my daughter convulse with seizures, I never think about leaving.

Sometimes I hate what my life has become. Sometimes I resent not being able to do what I love. Sometimes when she’s struggling I want to rage at the world at the injustice of it all. Sometimes the frustration and impotence I feel eats away at me.

But I’ve never once thought about walking away.

I think about walking away from Gwen right now.

I don’t move from this bed, but the desire washes over me, pure and hot. Like a force of nature.

So while she’s told me she loves me, right this second, I hate her for reminding me that I’m more like him than I should be.

For forcing me to confront the ugly truth.

She’s watching me, gauging my reaction with wary eyes.

I have no idea what to say. So I say nothing.

I just wrap my hand around her neck and pull her to me, kissing her and flipping her onto her back with a ferocity that would frighten a normal woman.

But Gwen isn’t normal. She’s mine. And she arches into me, moaning.

I grasp her wrists, pinning them onto the bed above her head, my grip tight.

The room seems to reverberate with the sounds of our harsh breathing as I take her mouth with hunger. A ruthlessness boarding on brutality.

I’m suddenly desperate for her. My need to claim her, always present, consumes me. I force my thigh between hers, spreading her wide, and then with no preamble I impale her.

A hard intake of air, like I might have hurt her. I pause, stilling for a second to allow her body to adjust to my intrusion.

She wants none of it. She tightens around my hips and whispers, “Don’t stop. Don’t ever stop.”

I thrust into her, my vision dimming as her hot, wet cunt envelops me.

“Harder.” Her voice is a plea.

My grip still tight on her wrists, I thrust into her, circling my hips, and she matches my rhythm.

We’re wild with it now.

Frantic and desperate and insatiable.

It blinds me. Blots out all thought. All reason.

It drops me right into the heart of her and I drown in it.

“Yes.” Her cries are urgent.

Sweat breaks across our skin. Our lips fuse, tongues thrusting.

It’s all-consuming passion.

The bed bangs against the wall, reverberating in my ears, blocking out all life but the woman under me.

She tightens around me.

I don’t want it to end. I want to keep fucking her. I whisper in her ear, “Don’t come yet.”

If she doesn’t come, I can stave off my own release, as long as she doesn’t come this won’t have to end.

“Jackson.” My name sounds like heaven on her lips.

I swallow her whimpers as I take her mouth.

Fucking her so hard I’m surprised the bed is still standing.

It’s so damn good.

When we’re like this I don’t have to think.

On a harsh breath, the words pour off my lips, the only ones I can give her right now. “You’re mine, always, Gwyneth.”

“Yes.” Her muscles ripple around me, threatening to suck me under.

Begging me to surrender to them. But I can’t, not yet. “Don’t come yet.”

“I’ll try.”

The room is dark, the air thick, filling with the sounds of the melding of our bodies.

My cock is demanding release, but I don’t want it to end.

She arches under me, her hips rising off the bed to meet me. She whispers, “I love you. God, I love you so much.”

In a blinding flash, I come harder than I have in my entire life, jutting into her. Filling her. Flooding her as an endless wave of blinding pleasure consumes me as she milks my cock, taking everything from me.

In that second, I know the truth.

What I was so desperate to get away from.

What I wanted to ignore.

I love her too.

And she’s going to break me.