Colson (The Henchmen MC #20) - Jessica Gadziala Page 0,84

ago. When we went out to lunch after ballet class. She told me when we got back into the car."

"Why didn't you tell me?" he asked.

"I don't know," I admitted. And I didn't. I guess maybe a part of me was worried he would think it was inappropriate for her to think that so soon, that maybe he didn't want her thinking or saying things like that to me.

As a whole, I was confident with the direction things were going with Colson, but there was always this insecure, niggling little voice in the back of my head that whispered ugly things about things not working out, about him finally realizing he could do better, that I was not the influence he wanted on his daughter after all.

Because, the longer things went on, the more I got to know Colson, the clearer it became what an incredible man he was.

He was patient and calm even in the midst of chaos. He was a voice of reason even when I was losing my cool. Or, let's face it, losing my temper.

He was a decent cook, a good housekeeper, a phenomenal father, a great brother, a loyal friend.

It was hard to accept at times that he actually wanted to be with a junk food addicted, foul-mouthed, impatient, inappropriate woman with no friends, a teenage son, a dependent mother, and an utter inability to remember to do the laundry until I was out of clean panties.

"I'm glad she loves you, babe," Colson said, seeming to pick up on my insecurity. He was good at that. "But I never had any doubts about that. I don't think it's possible not to love you, Eva."

Forget sleeping it off, a gallon of coffee, a session with the porcelain throne. Those words were officially the best way to become instantly sober.

They slid over my skin, slipped in, turned my insides to mush.

"Did you... are you..." I started, unable to force the words out.

Colson turned, grabbing a spoon, stirring the pasta, taking his sweet time.

When he finally turned back, he moved closer, pushing between my thighs, putting his hands on the counter to the sides of my hips.

"Yes," he said, nodding.

"I, um, I'm afraid I am going to need to hear you say it," I told him.

His head ducked down a little, gaze unwavering.

"I love you."

"You do?" I asked, hearing the squeaky, school-girl tone to my voice.

"Yeah," he confirmed.

"Why?"

"Well, I have to admit, your ability to sock food away is at the top of the list," he told me, smiling.

"As it should be," I agreed.

"You're amazing, Eva. I don't think you have ever had someone tell you that before. But you've been through a lot. You've dealt with a lot. And you haven't lost your light through all those dark times. You don't see that a lot in life. It's special. I feel really fucking lucky that I get to be around it."

My arms went up, grabbing his neck, pulling him down toward me, lips hovering near his.

"I love you back," I told him, then sealed my lips to his.

And I did.

God, I did.

More than I knew I could.

I think when you shut yourself off to the possibility for long enough, you tend to start to believe you aren't capable of having that capacity to love. I had all but resigned myself to a life as a mom, as a caretaker to an ailing mother. I never let myself want more because I didn't think I was able to have it, that anyone would sign up for this shitshow I called a life.

But then there he was.

Nothing like what I thought I wanted.

But, in the end, so, so much more.

"Pasta," I said against his lips as the kiss started to get heated.

To that, Colson chuckled against my lips before pulling back to smile down at me.

"We're saying we love each other for the first time, and you're worried about the macaroni and cheese."

"Hey, you knew what you were getting into with me," I teased, making him laugh.

"I sure did," he agreed, stirring the pasta then reaching for another pan from the cabinet.

"What are you doing?"

"Babe," he said, shaking his head. "There's no way you are going to be happy with just mac and cheese. I'm making some grilled cheese sandwiches too."

"Oh, you really do love me," I said, beaming.

Happy.

That was the bubbling sensation in my chest.

Happiness.

Little champagne bubbles of pure joy.

Okay, and maybe a little bit of tequila.

That was another amazing thing about Colson. He came with a whole