now. You’re not planning on leaving me for Joel, are you?” He said it with a tease, to get a reaction out of me. I pushed my heavy braid back and tried not to roll my eyes.
Joel was the round, bubbly lab tech who worked for Jada and me. He was usually found wearing headphones and listening to true crime podcasts or romance novels. He was efficient, kind, and smart, but he wasn’t the love of my life.
Since moving to San Francisco and buying both a high-tech lab facility and a condo with views of the bay, Dawson, Jada, and I had become a team. He was a silent but equal partner. Jada and I were the brains and beauty of the operation. Together, we’d landed a deal with Grâce Charmante and Whole Foods that was changing everything for us.
“I’m not Joel’s type,” I told him. “It’d be more you leaving me for him than the other way around.”
He chuckled. “I know.”
I swept the curl off his brow. He needed a haircut. It was longer than it had been in the entire time we’d been together. Darker now that he spent less time on the water and more time in the office—his office with Dax at Armaud Racing and our office at Force de la Violette. Dawson had become quite the entrepreneur.
He still consulted with the FBI, but he wasn’t on the regular payroll. After a year of working for the San Francisco office, he’d finally turned in his badge. The politics of the day-to-day were not for him, but he also liked to keep his thumb on the pulse of the Kyōdaina. I wasn’t sure any of us would ever completely feel safe, but for now, Jada’s dad had proven the truth of his words. There had been no retribution after Ken’Ichi.
Instead of replying to Dawson’s initial question about what was bugging me, I leaned forward to capture his lips. A slow, searching kiss, slipping my tongue into his mouth, reveling in the taste of him. The zip of that energy that coursed through us as we came together charged back to life. Joining us. Furiously burning off the hydrogen to leave only the “us” we were meant to be behind.
His fingers drifted up and down my bicep but didn’t travel further. His normal reaction to me kissing him this way in the morning would have been to slide that hand all the way down my body until it reached my core.
Instead, he paused and demanded, “Talk to me, Vi.”
I looked up at the ceiling and the invisible formula I’d written there.
I was barely twenty-three. Too young. Too much to do to even consider being a mom. But the thought had carved a spot in my heart. Dawson was twenty-nine. He’d accomplished more than he’d ever thought he would. The yachts Dax and he had designed to win the Conquistar de la Atlántica cup had been in high demand ever since, making him a multi-millionaire several times over. That was on top of the purses they won racing. On top of what we were getting out of Force de la Violette.
Sometimes, our life now seemed inconceivable to me after years spent watching Jersey struggle to bring home mac and cheese to a hotel room we barely had the money to pay for.
I closed my eyes and then opened them again to look into Dawson’s brown ones. They were a warm amber. A comfort. He was waiting, but his concern was growing, and I felt like an ass. I blew out a breath and said, “For a brief moment in time, I thought I might be pregnant.”
His hand on my arm stilled then restarted again. He was careful to keep his emotions blank, wanting mine to be the path for the discussion, and it made me love him more than I already did. Because he wouldn’t push what he wanted onto my feelings.
“But you’re not?” he asked.
I shook my head, swallowing hard, looking at his chest and the smooth skin. He tucked his fingers under my chin, lifting it so I was forced to let him see the tears that glittered there unshed.
“You wanted to be pregnant?” he asked, this time unable to keep the hint of surprise out of his voice.
“No,” I said, shaking my head. “Of course not.”
“But you’re still upset.”
“I just thought… A little piece of us…going out in the world. A cousin for Nell. You…holding our baby.” I let my heart hurt and then pushed