I park around the other side of the gazebo and turn off the car.
“You asked if I forgive you, and I do. If I couldn’t, you wouldn’t be here now, but I do want to be perfectly clear on one point.”
“What’s that?”
“That I’m not going to forget it.” I turn sideways in my seat to face him. “If you ever even hint at laying a hand on me, we’re through. Permanently. I don’t care about the consequences.”
“I understand that.” I see his throat bob as he swallows. “It won’t happen again, Cherry. I swear, I’ll never do anything like that again.”
“Good.” I give him one last look before we head into the house.
Once we’re inside, I shiver and rush over to the thermostat to turn the heat back on. The past few days had been warm, and I hadn’t needed it.
“It’s very quiet in here,” Nate whispers as he looks around.
“You get used to being in an old house after a while,” I say. “It makes a lot of noises at night. It used to scare me when I was little.”
“That’s all the antiques talking.” Nate looks around at the furniture.
“Well, that was Aunt Ginny’s business.”
“It wasn’t though, was it? You were raised by Sofia Ramsay. That much we know to be true. She didn’t run an antique store until after she took Virginia Bay’s place.”
“I guess she learned,” I say with a shrug. “She certainly sounded like she knew what she was talking about.”
Nate makes a subtle remark about food, and I grin before making us peanut butter sandwiches. I even manage to eat about half of mine, but Nate quickly becomes quiet, staring at me intently.
“Are you okay?” I ask. I thought he would get a kick out of the sandwich, but maybe I should have at least ordered some carry-out from the diner.
“Cherry…I don’t know if I can hold back any more.”
“Hold back?” I look into his eyes and suddenly understand exactly what he means. “My bedroom is upstairs.”
It’s tempting to hold back and take it slowly, but neither of us wants to delay, and our clothing is quickly strewn over my bedroom floor. He runs his hands all over my skin as our lips press together. He enters me without hesitation, and his groan nearly makes me come when I hear it.
“Needed this…so much…”
I can’t reply. My mind and body have only one focus, and forming words just isn’t on my priority list. The tension is already built, and it’s all I can do to hold off for a few minutes as I feel our bodies merge into one.
I’ve missed this so much—missed him so much—and now that I have him once more, I know I never want to be parted again. I lace my fingers in his hair and wrap my legs around his hips as if I could keep him with me forever if I just hold on tight enough.
“I love you,” Nate whispers against my neck. “I thought…I thought I’d never be with you again.”
“Love…you…” I manage to mutter, then cry out. “Oh, God! Nate!”
A shudder runs through me, and I gasp. I tighten my legs around his hips and push up against him as the waves of pleasure dance through my body. I keep holding onto him—arms and legs refusing to release the lock around him—until I feel him tense and hear him cry out my name as he fills me.
He collapses on top of me for a few seconds before rolling to the side, taking me with him. I feel him slip out of me, and I can’t help but notice he again didn’t say anything about condoms or birth control. Not that it matters now, at least, not in terms of pregnancy. We’ve never really talked about his past relationships or how many women he’s been with, and I start to wonder if I am as naïve as everyone thinks I am.
Nate reaches over and strokes the side of my face, pulling me from my dark, unsure thoughts. We lie on our sides, looking at each other. Nate keeps smiling and stroking my face, and I smile back as I run my hand up and down his arm. The silence is a comfortable one, and his warmth wards off the chill from outside.
I still haven’t told him.
The bandage cliché runs through my head, and I know I should just tell him. I have a pretty good idea that he will be happy about it, but uttering the words feels like a huge step, and I’m hesitant to interrupt the moment.
It has to be done.
“Nate, there’s something I need to tell you.” As soon as the words are out of my mouth, I regret them. I don’t know how to say this, and I’m barely mentally prepared to understand the implications myself. I can’t say it yet.
“What is it?”
I look away, not responding.
“Cherry?”
I feel like we’re at a turning point, and bringing up the pregnancy right at this moment might not be the best idea. Aside from being terrified to say it aloud, I don’t want this reconciliation to be about the baby. I want it to be about us.
“Janna Ramsay was here,” I blurt out.
“What?” Nate’s face goes pale as he props himself up on his elbow.
“She came here about a week ago, giving me a sales pitch about how we were sisters.”
“What did you do?”
“I listened for a little while, then threw her out.” I expect him to laugh, but he doesn’t.
“She actually came here and introduced herself? What did she say?”
“Well,” I say, suddenly realizing I’m not ready for this conversation either, “she did talk about your brother a little. She said Jay acted in self-defense.”
“She actually told you that? She admitted
