Being forced to confront the truth of how deeply Simon has wormed his way back under my skin should switch off my desire. I don't want to feel the things I'm feeling for him. I sure as hell don't want to be admitting them. All the alcohol in the world can't seem to drown out the truth. The connection we had six years ago hasn't been lessened by time and distance. I loved him then, and it would be so easy to love him now.

"If I can give you the triple crown of orgasms, will you let me sleep here?" He kisses along my stomach, his hand working magic on my core.

I let out a husky laugh. Why does he think I told him to bring Rex? "A three-peat? You could probably ask for anything you want."

"I'm holding you to that," he murmurs before his tongue flicks along my clit, and I moan, lifting my hips, begging for more. And boy, does he give me more.

After the second orgasm, he stares at me with a hint of a smirk. "Triple crown, coming up." Competitiveness comes naturally to him. In this case, who am I to complain?

"You think I'm that easy," I murmur while he sheaths himself.

"Not easy," he says, cradling my body as he slides into me. "Just always worth the effort."

Whether it's the endorphins or the alcohol, when he eases out and back in, and our gazes connect, my stomach flutters. His green eyes are soft, the way he used to look just before he told me he loved me. The memory lodges in my throat. I run my hand along his cheek, searching his face. Does he love me? How can he? Do I love him? My stomach clenches at the thought. I can't. I won't.

His forehead touches mine, and then we're kissing and moving in sync. He draws me closer, tighter, and unbelievably, my body begins to coil again, ready to spring free once more. Any thoughts other than how good he feels inside me fly out of my mind. I want this. I want him. Nothing else matters.

"You feel so amazing," he rasps.

"Don't stop," I murmur, digging my nails into his ass, keeping him pressed tightly against me. "Don't ever stop." I want this feeling to go on and on. Somehow, I want him to convince me we can have this again for more than these three weeks. I want to cling on, even as I'm freefalling over the edge, tumbling into another orgasm. When I cry out, Simon holds me closer, his breathing ragged in my ear and races over the edge with me.

~ * ~

"If I get out of this bed," Simon says from beside me. "Am I going to come back to find you fully dressed and watching TV in the living room?"

"I have to work in five hours." I throw my hand over my face, my body so spent, I'm not sure I'll be able to move even in five hours.

"I'll be right back," Simon says, throwing back the covers. He patters around the en suite and leaves the room before coming back with Pixie cradled in his arms.

I forgot about the puppy. What kind of vet am I? Totally forgot I have a dog, or at least, a dog for now.

"You're doing a great job with her," Simon says, sliding under the covers next to me, and slipping his arm across my middle, tugging me against him.

"She comes to the clinic every day. Sandy does half the training, I swear." I turn my head to stare at him. "What happened with Jada?" The question comes out without being filtered in my brain first.

Thank you, two bottles of wine.

He tenses. "I told you—"

"I don't want to know in a week, or tomorrow, or any other time you decide. I deserve to know." I turn to face him, and the room spins for a second. "You can't tell me you want more, that I'm worth the effort, and every other thing you've said over the last week and a half and keep the one thing I still need to decide whether you're worth the effort, whether I want more." Even as I say the words, I realize his answer might not matter. I'm in too deep.

While I scan his face, I'm memorizing the tiny lines in the corners of his eyes, the way the vivid green stands out against his impossibly long lashes. I used to look in those eyes and wonder what color our children's eyes would be. All the emotions I've been trying to keep in a neat little box are peeking out, daring to hope.

"Okay," he says the word slowly. "Okay." He turns onto his back and shoves one hand behind his head, focused on the ceiling.

"Usually, when someone is going to tell the truth, they don't have to think about it so hard." My heart plummets into my stomach.

"After we split up," he says, taking a deep breath. "I went on a few dates with her."

"A few?"

"Three." He glances at me.

"That doesn't make any sense," I whisper, meeting his gaze. "She was at your apartment for months. I thought she moved in."

He turns on his side to face me, his hands tucked between his head and the pillow. "You drove past my house?"

I mirror his pose. "Ruby was my getaway driver."

A hint of a smile touches his lips. "I was a mess after we broke up, and my dad asking my mom for a divorce, the abrupt move to France. So, I finally agreed to the dates, even though I didn't really want to go."

Agreed to the dates. Such a weird way to put it. "You make it sound like it was some kind of contract." I frown. "Unless she was like, your house cleaner or something, three dates doesn't explain the number of times I saw her." Do I sound like a stalker? Likely. I'm too drunk to care. Her seamless integration into his life after we broke up ate at me. Still eats at me like battery acid.

He purses his lips. "You probably saw her while I was at work. I didn't realize she was around so much. I knew she was..." He seems to search for the right word. "Obsessed with..." He winces. "I didn't know how bad it was until Aaron went over to let Rex out and found Jada sleeping in my bed."

My eyes bug out. "She had a key? You went on three dates, and she had a key?"

His lips quirk up, but the almost smile isn't amused. "Give me some credit. She broke in through a window I hadn't latched properly. Ground floor apartments are great for break-ins and pizza deliveries."

"Aaron found her in your bedroom?" Was this the truth? Why would he hesitate to tell me about a woman who got too attached too quickly? My drunken brain gnaws on the details, slicing them up, rearranging them, trying to figure out what's true.

"Yep," he says. "A place, in case you're wondering, she'd never been during our three dates."

"What did Aaron do?"

"Called the police and reported the break-in." Simon adjusts the pillow. "I shouldn't have let it get that far."

"Sounds like she was unstable." Had people thought I was unstable when Simon broke up with me? I recognized the free fall, but I couldn't seem to stop myself. Driving past his house. Checking his social media. Hardly eating. Constant dreams about him. Love isn't always a blessing.

Simon frowns and avoids eye contact. "Aaron took me to the police station the next day to file a for a personal protection order."

"I guess after she broke into your house—"

"There was a lot more than that. Looking back it was... The break-in was just the point where Aaron thought I needed to 'snap out of it and put my foot down.'" He chuckles and runs his fingers along his forehead. "She didn't feel dangerous to me. Sad. Desperate. Obsessed with something that would never happen. He saw her behavior differently. I was burying myself in extra shifts. Who was I to argue?"

"Three dates and a protection order," I whisper the details, but they don't quite click into place. Is it because I'm drunk? Or maybe I just can't imagine doing the same thing myself which makes it hard to believe? "This doesn't seem like your fault, Si. Why wouldn't you just tell me?"

He loops his index finger around a stray strand of my hair and lets it slide through his fingers. "Other than you, the way I handled the situation with Jada is one of my biggest regrets. I made a lot of mistakes in a really short period of time."

I lace our fingers together and squeeze his hand. Tears pool in my eyes, and I sniff. For years, I thought he replaced me like I meant nothing. To realize the situation wasn't even close is both a balm to my soul and strangely compounds the lingering ache. All those sleepless nights where I was so lost, wondered how I got our relationship so wrong. I didn't get us wrong, but we still went so wrong anyway.

"You had my heart, Tay. I could never give it to anyone else."

When I meet his gaze, the sincerity in his eyes erases the rough edges of the scar his abrupt departure left. Has he truly meant all the things he's said the last week and a half? "Do you really think we can get us back, Si?"

He traces the side of my face. "I wouldn't be here if I didn't." He shuffles closer and slides his arm around my middle, so we're mere inches apart. "I know you're not there yet, but I'm going to do everything I can to show you we're meant to be." His lips are soft and tender against mine, the kind of kiss that pulses with love and care, not desire or passion.

The gesture sets off the avalanche of feelings inside me again.

"I'm going to find a way to make you believe it, Tay."

The thing is, I think I'm already there.

So...what do you think of Si's revelation? Surprised? Not surprised? Confused?

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