“Babe, this is just our life how we gotta live it.”
“Yes,” she agreed. “It’s our life. It’s your purpose in this life to take care of me. And it’s my purpose to give that back.”
He tried to read her, thought he got a bead, and said, “You don’t gotta make any grand gestures.”
But he’d read her wrong.
“You’re right, I don’t. You love me and I have one simple task. To make that worth it.”
“That’s not gonna be hard, baby, you do that by breathing.”
Wet welled in her eyes as she held his.
Then she leaned his way. Dropping her cup to the arm of the chair, she reached her other hand out to slide the tips of her fingers along the stubble at his cheek. Up, she smoothed the hair over his forehead. Back down, she cupped his jaw.
“I think, if you don’t mind, sweetheart, I’ll put a little more effort into it,” she murmured.
Fuck, he loved her.
“Knock yourself out,” he murmured back.
Her glistening eyes smiled and she slid her thumb over his cheekbone, his lips, before she took her hand away and settled back in with Nick and their view.
“One regret,” she said quietly.
Fuck.
He looked to her profile.
It was still untroubled.
“What?” he asked when she spoke no more.
She turned to him. “I never got a ride in your Jag.”
He bit back laughter.
“No worries, Livvie. It’s in storage. We’ll get it back.”
Her green eyes smiled, this time bright and carefree, and she turned back to the view.
Nick did too.
He gave her time. He gave himself time. When the peace settled deep, it was time for something else.
“You want breakfast?” he asked.
She turned to look at him again and when she did, her eyes had a different look. A look he felt in his cock.
“French toast,” she answered.
That was when Nick’s eyes smiled.
* * * * *
Five Weeks Later
He knew it the minute his stomach clutched, pushing bile up his throat so severe, in reaction to it his body convulsed right off the commissary stool.