“I do, for the few I’ve had interaction with.” She slid her feet from his lap and sat up, putting a distance between them he didn’t care for. “Killian, I feel like we’re skipping a dozen steps here. There’s still stuff I don’t know, that you don’t know, that—”
“I know you never would have run the story about Charlie, even before we first made love,” he interrupted, wanting to get through the worst of it before she could argue. “I know I should have trusted you sooner. I know your job and my job together might make things awkward from time to time, and I know I don’t care.”
“Killian—”
“I know that the last week without having you near me sucked so much, I was ready to come kidnap you in the middle of the night just to have you near me.”
She breathed in deeply, but didn’t try to interrupt.
“And I know I love you,” he finished quietly, watching her eyes widen in shock. “I know I could have really broken something forever—or maybe I did—and I’m too stubborn to admit it. But I know I won’t give up on us yet.”
When she just watched him, leaning forward a bit as if anticipating another round, he nodded. “Okay. So . . . that’s what I know.”
That’s what I know? He’d had a week to prepare for seeing her again, and the best closing line he could come up with was, That’s what I know?
“Do you want to know what I know?” she asked primly, not reaching for him.
Damn. “Maybe,” he said warily. She laughed, and he prayed it was a good sign.
“I know you were hiding your son for good reason. I know your son’s needs, wants, and overall well-being come first, no matter what. I know you were doing what you thought was best, and I can’t fault you for it. Yes, it hurt to realize you didn’t trust me, but I know I’m not a parent, and until I am, I won’t understand the level of protection you feel for your own kid and how far that would push me.”
It was good. It was damn good so far. He started to haul her into his lap, but she stood and evaded him.
“I know I’m not done,” she said with enough bite he didn’t give chase. His butt sank back down into the worn cushion. “And I know we have a long way to go, you and I.”
“Are we done with the ‘I know’s’?” he asked irritably.
She scowled. “You started it.”
“I know,” he said without thinking, then rolled his eyes when she snorted a laugh. “Come here.” He bounded off the couch and tackled her, taking her down onto the mattress of the bed. Tiny apartments had their advantages. The bed was always mere steps away. Laying on their sides, he ran his hand from her shoulder to her hip, pulling her into him. Even their emotional conversation couldn’t staunch the erection he seemed to perpetually have around her.
“I love you,” she whispered, and kissed him softly. “Sorry, I’ll rephrase. I know I love you.”
“Freckles,” he growled, then rolled over her and pinned her to the mattress. “My having a kid doesn’t freak you out?”
“He’s a child, not an alien.” She blinked up at him. “Right?”
Killian punished the question with another kiss, this one long and sensual and so charged it was torture to break it off.
“We’ll ease into it. He sounds like a cool kid. I’m not looking to replace his mom, since it sounds like his mom’s not too bad. Maybe a little flakey,” she said, and he smiled at that. “But I’m not out to replace anyone. I just want to stand beside you.”
“That’s where I want you.” He glanced at her tripod, still set up, though empty of her camera that was now charging on her desk. “If those two knuckleheads can work out a relationship, there’s got to be a way for us.”
“There is.” She smiled and combed her fingers through his hair. “But we’ve got one problem.”
His gut tightened. “What?”
With a serious face, she said, “Your bowling . . . is atrocious.”
Chapter Twenty-four
Three months later . . .
Aileen sat on the floor, surrounded by toys and wrapping paper that littered the floor up to her elbows. “This is insane.”
“This is ah-mazing!” Charlie shrieked, diving into a pile of paper and ribbons. The colorful confection exploded and she closed her eyes before getting decked by a piece of Styrofoam.
Ernie—or Grandpa Ernie, as he’d insisted Charlie refer to him—and Mrs. Reynolds—Nanny R, at her request—had both left an hour ago to head home. As Aileen had suspected, they’d gotten along pretty well with one another. Little had she and Killian known they were each bringing a truckload of gifts for Charlie’s birthday. Between the haul he managed from his pseudo-grandparents, plus the gifts she and Killian had given him, he’d scored. Big time.
“Hey, buddy, come here.” She held out her arms, tears stinging the backs of her eyes as he crawled into her and nuzzled at her shoulder. He’d accepted her in Killian’s life as easily as she could have imagined any child. It probably helped that his mother had paved the way by starting to date someone seriously herself. From the sounds of it, Aileen wouldn’t be shocked to hear Emma report an engagement from their spring trip to Jamaica.
A trip she didn’t envy them for, as it meant Killian got to spend Charlie’s entire spring break—including Charlie’s actual birthday—with his son.
“You’re looking pretty spiffy in your new shirt, aren’t you?” She pulled Charlie back enough to look at his polo shirt. The shirt was royal blue with gold stitching. Bobcat colors, Charlie had proudly exclaimed as he’d pulled it from the box. His name was embroidered over the right breast pocket with a set of bowling pins. It matched the larger version both Aileen and Killian were wearing. Gifts from Ernie, who proclaimed them to be their own team now. And every team needed their own uniforms, didn’t they?
“When do we go bowling again?” Charlie asked, reaching down to grab a Transformer toy and pull it up into his lap.
Smoothing the hair from his brow, much like she often did with his father, she said, “Your dad’s beginner’s league is on Tuesday normally, but they’re breaking for spring break. We can go together, just us, the day after tomorrow if you want.”
“No bumpers this time,” he insisted.
“No bumpers,” she promised, inwardly grimacing. But hey, he’d learn.
“Lemonade is served. One with extra ice cubes and two regular.” Killian walked out from the kitchen and set three mugs on the coffee table in front of them. “Charlie, yours is the one with Star Wars.”
“I’m counting the ice cubes,” he announced, and sat up from Aileen’s lap to do so.
“And your drink,” Killian said with a fake British accent.
She took a careful sip. “Not bad.” Kissing him, she tasted the tartness on his lips. “When are you gonna FaceTime with Emma?”
“Waiting for her text. Her reception is spotty, so it’s up to her to find a good spot.” He brushed a finger over the stitching on his pocket. “These aren’t half bad. Think I could get an entire Bobcat bowling team going?”
She laughed and laid her head on his shoulder, watching the beginning credits of a Phineas and Ferb episode start.
“I love you.” He kissed her temple and draped an arm around her. Their backs rested against the couch cushions, their butts were padded by at least three inches of wrapping paper, and the apartment they now shared was a mess. But it was perfect pandemonium.
They watched as Charlie drank his lemonade and gave a running commentary on how illogical Phineas’ plan to build a time machine was. Aileen poked him with a sock-covered foot. “Quiet down in the peanut gallery.”