Page 201 of Fake it ’Til Fall
The words leave him so quietly that for a second I think I imagined them.
I look at him.
He looks back.
No almost-smile now. No dodge. No gruff little exit ramp.
Just Forrest.
Careful. Terrified. Here.
“Our son?” I whisper.
He swallows. “If you want.”
My heart does something so large and foolish I have to put my hand on his chest like that might stop mine from embarrassing me.
“I love you,” I say.
It comes out plain.
Forrest closes his eyes.
When he opens them, they are ruined in the best way.
“Day.”
“I know. I’m sorry. Terrible timing. We were mid-negotiation. Very unprofessional. I should’ve sent it in writing with bullet points and maybe a benefits summary.”
“I love you,” he says.
I stop breathing.
He brushes his thumb over my cheek. “I love you.”
“You can’t say it twice.”
“Why?”
“Because I only have one nervous system.”
His mouth curves, real this time. “You’ll manage.”
“I will not. I am held together by soft pants and pending paperwork.”
He kisses me again, slower now.
Deeper.
Like we have nowhere else to be.
Like the word has changed the room and neither of us is afraid enough to take it back.
Behind the bedroom door, Puck lets out one deeply dramatic groan.
I laugh against Forrest’s mouth.
“Our son has notes,” I whisper.
