I wait for the stinging betrayal that comes with those memories, and it’s there, just waiting, but I take a breath and set them aside. “I was terrified to be pregnant. We barely saw each other, I still hadn’t finished school, and I had Romy at home with Nana. I didn’t even realize how much I wanted the baby until…” I stop, tears forming in the corners of my eyes. I will them to not fall. “Forgive me. I’ve always wanted kids, and it felt too soon, it did, but I was excited. Romy was over the moon. Nana had doubts, but she was knitting booties. Julian, well, he was pissed. He never approved of Vane. Ugh, I shouldn’t tell you this.”
“Hey. It’s okay. Some people are just easy to talk to. Catharsis is good. The verbal expression of past painful emotions helps smooth over bad memories. It’s like the brain merges the original painful memory with the new less painful version of sharing the memory.”
“You’re full of facts.” I give him a wan smile as I sit up on my mat. He does the same, and we face each other.
“Psych major. Tell me anything. I joke a lot, but I’m a good listener.”
“Vane, well, I was beginning to suspect that we wouldn’t last, and I figured he was cheating on the road, but when you’re in the middle of something, it’s hard to see what’s ahead. I pretended like everything was fine. I wanted it to be fine, so I ignored the warning signs. Maybe I compartmentalized? I don’t know. He had a lot of fame thrown at him. We were young.”
“You still care about him.”
“He was the center of my world for a long time.”
“Come here,” he says softly.
I do, inching forward until our knees touch. He smells divine, vanilla mixed with virile male. Something electric zings between us as we look at each other.
“Je promets d’être bon avec toi,” he murmurs, holding my gaze.
My heart skips at his soft words. “I caught I promise, but what does the rest of it mean?”
“I promise I’ll be good to you.” He tilts my chin up and leans in and—
I pull away and maneuver up to standing.
“Serena, wait—”
No. I’m already walking into the small kitchen that’s to the left of the yoga space. I don’t believe in promises from guys anymore. F that. Dillon is trouble with a capital T. I should run out of this room and go straight home.
I hear him following me. Swallowing down my anxiousness, I open the fridge and reach for one of the waters Zena keeps for us. His hands land on my shoulders. He’s right there, the heat from his bare chest against my back. Tension crackles in the air around us.
“Serena.” He pauses, uncertainty in his voice. “Look, I’m sorry if I came on too strong. The truth is, I met you my freshman year at the bonfire party.” A small huff comes from him. “I kissed you. Twice. I said some douchey stuff about who I was and you ran off.” His hands stroke over the straps of my halter top, touching my skin with the barest touch. He drifts down to my hips, and I lean back against him.
“You don’t remember, do you?”
Oh, Dillon.
“I remember.”
The silence builds in the room as we stand there, my hand tightening on the handle of the fridge. He turns me around and looks down at me intently, his eyes searching mine. “When?”
I can feel my face warming. “I had an inkling at the Oreo encounter, but I knew for sure when you came in my apartment. I didn’t admit to it because I thought it would inflate your ego.” I dip my head. “You looked different then.”
“I wore bleached out dreadlocks in my hair. I also grew two inches that year.”
“And you’ve bulked up more.”
A dawning hits his eyes. “It’s more than that though. Did you feel guilty about the kiss? It was his band that night. Were you married then?”
“I wasn’t married, but yeah, I felt guilty. I told him what happened after his set was finished.” A scoff comes from me. “He just laughed. I guess he was just that confident that I loved him—which I did. I adored him. You kind of came out of nowhere and took me by surprise.”
Dillon exhales. “I would have been livid.” He pauses. “I’ve thought about that night…” He bites his bottom lip. “A lot.”
“Yeah?”
“We need a new kiss to replace it. I’m going to call in that promise you owe me, Serena.”
My eyes dart to his mouth as nerves fly at me. Just do it, Serena! “Then take it.”
His head lowers and his lips land on mine, hesitant at first, our tongues tangling as he moves his hands to my face, cradling my cheeks. It’s as if I’ve been waiting forever for this moment, his touch, and I sink into the pleasure, the pressure of our mouths increasing. His hand slides up to my hair, and he cups my nape, pulling me closer.
It’s my first kiss in eighteen months, and passion roars. Our mouths fit together instinctively, knowing how to play and tease then delve in deeper. My hands skate up his chest, trailing over the defined muscles, mapping out the hills and valleys. Sparks pop and heat spears me. We part to breathe, and my hands tug on his hair, bringing his mouth back to mine. “Again.”
“Serena…” He presses me against the fridge, his hips against my pelvis. His lips own me, sucking at my bottom lip, then going right back to slanting his mouth over mine. The tent in his shorts aims for my center, and my legs part, inviting him in. His hands find mine, his thumbs teasing over the rapid pulse in
