"You're not respecting my wishes."
"Not if this is some way to protect me." He moves closer. "If you're sick of me. If you're done with me. If you were using me for my body, sure. I'll leave. I'll follow you to the hospital and make a scene. But I'll scram eventually."
I shake my head. "I'm not done with you."
"Then you're shit out of luck, sunshine." His fingertips skim my hips. "I'm not going anywhere."
My heart thuds against my chest.
He moves closer. Until he's six inches away.
His palm rests on my hips. The other goes to my cheek.
He rubs my temple with his thumb.
He stares into my eyes like I'm everything he needs.
God, those deep blue eyes…
I can't let him stay but I can't tell him to leave either.
"Dean." My eyelids flutter together. My head falls to one side. Into his palm. God, his touch feels good. Like everything I want. "You should go now. You should get out before you fall in love with me."
"Too late."
My heart thuds against my chest. I reach for a response, but my mouth is too sticky.
"I'm crazy in love with you."
"But it's barely been a month."
"I know. But I am." He slides his arm around me. Presses his palm into my lower back to pull my body into his. "It's okay if you don't feel it yet. Or if you're not ready to say it. But you gotta know I'm not going anywhere. I'm here. Whether you're sick or well or something in between."
"But…"
"No buts, sunshine. This is where I want to be."
"But…" It's the only response I have. My urge to protect him overwhelms everything else. Even that greedy part of me that wants his comfort. His affection. His love.
He loves me.
When I stare up into his eyes, I believe it.
I know it everywhere.
"I…" I suck a breath through my teeth. His touch feels too good. It's drowning out my senses. "I don't know if I can do this to you."
"You're not doing it to me. I love you, whether you want me around or not. And, fuck, if you are sick, I'll never forgive myself for missing a second."
"But…"
His voice is strong. Sure. "I'll never forgive myself for letting you suffer alone. So, if you're doing this for me, trust me. This is what I want."
"Dean…"
"Let me finish this, sunshine." He pulls my body into his. "I've spent my entire life avoiding connections because I was afraid of getting hurt. I'm not doing it again. Not when I've found the person who completes me."
Every part of me goes warm at once. It's cheesy. It's wrong for him. It's perfect. "Did you really just say that?"
"Yeah. No. Let me correct that. Fuck yeah."
I can't help but smile. "It was super cheesy."
"I know. But it was true." He stares down at me with every ounce of love and affection in the world.
It's there, in his eyes.
There's no way I'll convince him to leave.
And there's no universe where I should.
If things were reversed, if he was the one who might be sick…
There's no way that would scare me off. There's no way I would let go of what I have.
Fuck. It is just like A Walk to Remember.
I am a cheesy Nicholas Sparks movie.
But, dear God, please let me strip the bittersweet from that ending.
I rise to my tiptoes and press my lips to his.
He kisses back, soft, slow, sure.
I pull back with a heavy sigh. "I have to go. For my needle biopsy."
He motions to his car. "I'm driving."
"'Cause it's harder for me to get away?"
"Sunshine, you overestimate my intellect."
Chapter Forty-One
Chloe
After the test, Dean and I wait in the hospital cafeteria. The bright, cheery room is all aqua walls and wide windows.
For once, it doesn't feel like the sunlight mocking me.
It feels…
This might not be, okay. But I'm ready to face reality. Whatever it is.
Dean distracts me as well as he can. We trade gossip about clients, and high school friends, and celebrities then we move on to movies, and food, and tea, and friends, and sex…
And, well, we kind of stick with that topic.
I'm on my fifth cup of tea when my phone buzzes with the doctor's number.
We take the elevator to the fifth floor. Walk the narrow beige hallway. Turn the handle to suite 505.
I step inside with all the strength I can muster.
Dean stays behind me, his hand still glued to mine.
The receptionist nods. "Chloe, he's ready for you."
He's ready for me. With my fate. With…
Fuck, I just have to know.
Now.
I squeeze Dean's hand as I cross the room. He follows me into the patient area.
"Suite three," the receptionist calls.
It's the first door on the right. A standard doctor's room. Teal patient bench. Plain grey chairs. Stool. White counter. White cabinets. Sink.
"You'd think the guy wouldn't make me wait anymore." I sit in one of the chairs and fold one leg over the other.
Dean sits next to me. He rubs the space between my thumb and forefinger with his thumb.
The soft gesture is comforting. Calming. Not enough, but some.
I rest my head on his shoulder.
Let my eyelids fall together.
No matter what, this isn't the end. At best, I have four more years until I'm in the clear. At worst…
God.
Please don't let it be at worst.
I inhale the moment. The soft touch. The warmth of his skin. The clean, linen scent of his soap.
The creak of the door.
Fuck.
I bounce in my seat. Pressing my palms into my quads does nothing to help. I'm crawling out of my skin.
I need to know.
I need it to be okay. But even more than that, I need to know.
Dr. Nyguen's eyes meet mine. "You're going to be okay, Chloe." His voice lifts. "It's a lipoma, a fatty tumor. Benign."
Benign.
"You don't have cancer."
That's…
I…
Fuck.
I jump out of my seat and crawl into Dean's lap.
"You don't have cancer." He reaches up. Rests his palm against my cheek.
I blink back a happy tear. "I…" I force myself to turn back to the doctor. "Is everything else okay?"
He nods. "We'll still need to do a scan every year, but it's just a precaution."
For once, I feel the truth behind his words.
It is just a precaution.
It's not a death sentence.
I…
"I'll give you two a minute." Dr. Nguyen laughs. "We'll call to schedule next year's MRI."
"Okay." I turn back to my boyfriend. "I…"
He catches a tear on his thumb. "Me too."
"Fuck. This is…" I press my forehead to his. "This is so good."
He nods. "Yeah."
"I'm really going to be okay."
"You're gonna be better than okay, sunshine. At least if I have any say in the matter." He brings his hands to my hips. Straightens my body so I'm perched on his thighs. "Gotta show you something."
"Yeah?"
He nods as he unbuttons his jeans.
"Dean, I-"
"Trust me."
That's not it. I don't trust myself. I want to pounce. I want to wrap my legs around him and fuck him until I forget the world.
I…
He rolls his jeans over his hip.
There's a flash of black.
Then all of it.
A shooting star streaks across his skin.
The same as mine.
"Wanted you to know I was all-in." He stares up at me. "Chloe, I love you so fucking much."
"I love you too." The words roll off my tongue withou
I need my heart.
And my heart is sure.
And this…
Fuck.
I press my lips to his. "Promise you aren't going anywhere?"
"Not in a million years."
Epilogue
Dean
A sweet, slow song pours from the speakers.
Chloe wraps her arms around my shoulders. Looks up at me with a hazy smile. "I didn't think this was going to happen."
The hotel ballroom blurs into warm light and bright flowers as we spin. The dance floor is crowded with people in formal wear—does Chloe's sister even know this many people?—but it still feels like our universe. "Me either."
"Please. You've been insistent that Mark was just waiting for the right moment."
I can't deny the allegations. Ever since we made this official, I've been a fixture at Lee family dinners. I spent a lot of nights telling Gia that Mark would get his shit together. She spent most of them rolling her eyes and warning me not to hurt Chloe.
To be honest, I'd almost given up on the guy when he finally did pop the question. Fuck. That was only three months ago. Gia fast tracked the wedding. Dragged Chloe into a world of dresses, bouquets, seating arrangements.
It's been weird, seeing her all girly.
She looks gorgeous in her fuchsia dress and heels, but she doesn't look like my Chloe.
Like the girl who will threaten to throw me over her shoulder if I fuck with her.
"What?" Her fingers curl into my hair. "You're giving me a look."
Yeah. I am. This is getting me all gooey and romantic. Watching Chloe walk down the aisle with Mark's brother… it was so real. So close to what it could be. "Thinking about Mark and Gia's honeymoon."
"What about it?"
"Which of them prefers to be on top."
Her nose scrunches in distaste. "You're baiting me. I'm not taking it."
I shrug suit yourself.
She nods I will. For a long moment, her poker face is strong. Then it crumbles. "Well…" She draws circles on the back of my neck. "Which of them?"
"I think that's pretty obvious."
"Ugh. Why do I talk to you?"
"Good body."
"True."
"Cock piercing."
She laughs. "Yeah. That is fun." She looks up at me. "You aren't really thinking about their wedding night, are you?"
Not the way she means. Fuck, if that was us, I'd already have my arms around her. I'd already be carrying her across the threshold, laying her on the bed, fucking her brains out.
I wouldn't be here, thanking family members and coworkers for attending.
"You have that look again?" She presses her hips against mine.
"What look?"
"I don't know. It's weird. Like you're daydreaming."
"Guess I am."
Her fingers dig into my skin. She looks up at me, her dark eyes hazy with love, affection, champagne. "What about?"
"What I'm gonna do to you."
"Oh?"
I press my palm into her lower back. Pull her closer. "You know… I kind of thought you were going to invite me to Vegas after my last test."
"I considered it."
"But?"
"Couldn't find a place with Earl Grey cake."
She laughs as she flips me off. "You shouldn't mock your girlfriend."
"What if she's my wife? Can I mock her then?"
"Are you proposing?"
Fuck, I want to. I've been ready for ages. But I'm not narcissistic enough to ask my girlfriend to marry me at her sister's wedding. "I think Gia might kill me."
"Yeah. She would. For sure."
"It would be worth it."
Her smile spreads over her lips. "Can you imagine the look on Ryan's face if we showed up wearing wedding rings?"
I can't help but laugh. Ryan is still Mr. Romance. He still worships the ground Leighton walks on.
And he's still not a fan of me teaching Chloe.
I can't blame him. It took us a long time to figure it out. For a while, we completely failed at keeping work and play separate. Brought fights and flirting to work. Brought work home. Made use of the back room when we were supposed to be doing mock-ups.
But we did figure it out eventually.
We don't talk work at home.
Don't tear our clothes off at the shop.
All right. If I'm being honest, my love of watching Chloe bloom as an artist is as much boyfriend as it is teacher.
I don't let my affection hold me back. I criticize her when she needs it. Push her when she needs that.
We both push each other to be better.
At work. At home. At everything.
A few weeks ago, Chloe started taking on clients. She's still doing free designs. Simple stuff like hearts, spades, words. She has another year before she's ready to fly solo, but she's well on her way.
"Ryan's gonna have to get over it." I press my lips to hers. Fuck, it feels so good kissing her. It warms me everywhere. "You think I'm going to wait until you're finished with your apprenticeship for that?"
"You think I'm going to say yes before that?"
"Only four hours to Vegas."
"I'll miss you too much if Gia murders you."
"Plus, you might be collateral damage."
She laughs. "Yeah. But we can still go. Put it all on black."
I shake my head. "I want lucky number thirteen."
"Is that black or red?"
"You're the expert."
"Uh… Black. Totally."
My smile spreads wider. She wants this too. But we really can't. Not with how much Gia and Chloe have been fighting over wedding planning. This shit is a stress factory.
And with their mom gone…
I know it's on Chloe's mind.
She's not over her doubts.
But she's getting there.
She handled her two-year scan with grace. She was nervous, but it was nothing compared to last year.
I was more of a wreck than she was.
Fuck, I was terrified.
I get it now, why Ryan was such a miserable wreck of himself.
I loved Chloe a year ago. But after twelve months of waking up next to her, eating breakfast with her, fighting over the remote, trading barbs, watching her grow as an artist…
Every day, I'm a little more in love with her.
"Mmmm." Chloe kicks her heels off, one at a time. They bounce off the walls. Land on the carpet with a thud.
"You trying to wreck up our place?"
"Our place?"
"You're here five nights a week."
"It's close to work."
"That's it."
"Well…" She bends her arm over her head, reaching for her zipper. "You're here."
"I'm here."
"Yeah. And, well… Dad isn't ready to accept that I've moved out."
"Just Dad?"
"Just Dad. I swear." She doesn't quite reach the zipper. "Could you?"
"Come here."
She does.
My fingers skim her hips. The curve of her waist. The sides of her chest. I trace the back of her dress.
She leans into the touch. Lets out a soft murmur as her head falls to the right.
I take my time undoing her zipper then tracing a line up her spine. Her back is gorgeous. And it feels so fucking good touching her. She feels right against my fingertips. Like she's made for me. "You look gorgeous."
"Weird."
"Yeah. But gorgeous."
She pushes her dress off her hips. "You don't look half bad yourself, Maddox." She turns and gives me a long, slow once-over.
"Does that mean I look half-good?"
"Amazing. But not good, exactly. Like the devil you are."
"Go on."
"What's that movie where Satan is a lawyer?"
"I look like Satan?"
"Yeah. Kind of."
"That's the sweetest thing you've said to me in ages."
"I try." Her fingers brush my suit jacket. My bright pink tie. My oxford shirt. "You look like Dean."
"Should I not?"
"No. But—" She kicks her dress off her feet. "I don't look like me in that dress"
"'Cause you weren't wearing your combat boots."
"Oh my God."
"You should have insisted."
Her laugh lights up her dark eyes.
"I'm serious."
"You are not."
"They're the essence of Chloe."
"Sounds like a perfume."
"Does it smell like your cunt?"
Her cheeks flush, but she holds strong. "What else?"
"I'll take a hundred bottles."
"It's ten thousand dollars a bottle."
"Fuck. That's steep." I wrap my arms around her waist. Pull her body into mine. "Guess I'll have to savor you the old-fashioned way."
She squeals as I lift her into my arms.
She wraps her arms around my shoulders.
Rests her head against my chest.
I carry her into our bedroom.
Lay her down on our bed.
She leans back on her elbows. Spreads her legs in invitation. "Should I put on my boots for this?"
"Depends."
"On?"
"You want it soft and slow or hard and fast?"
Her eyes fix on mine. "Which do I get if I wear the boots?"
"Sunshine, if you put on those boots, I won't be able to control myself." I sit next to her and pull her into my lap
She giggles as I dig my thumb into the sole of her foot. "Uh-huh."
"I'll split you in half."
Her eyelids flutter together as I rub her feet. "Oh my God." Her back arches. Her lips part with a sigh. "Don't stop."
"Never."
Pleasure spills over her expression as I massage her tired feet. "When did you get so good at this?"
I'm not. I just do what I can. "You never let me take care of you."
"I do sometimes."
"When?"
"The test last month."
She did. And, fuck, it meant everything.
"I'm working on it."
"I know." I get that Chloe is tough and independent. That she'll always be able to fend for herself. But sometimes I want to take that weight for her.
Her eyes blink open. Find mine. "You're still wearing a lot of clothes."
I rub her feet a little harder. "You want me to stop?"
"No. But I want you to go too." She swings her legs to her side. Her hands go to my shoulders.
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