I could only breathe because I could barely breathe. If I had tried to multitask—like think or speak or move—I might have suffocated.

“But, to be wanted…that would make all the difference, wouldn’t it? Because then wanting you might not be just another effort in futility. If you wanted me, then having you and keeping you would be possible.”

I exhaled, quietly, carefully. New tears streaked down my face, and I glanced at the vaulted ceiling of the apartment I wanted but couldn’t afford.

I’d accepted that no amount of saving, working, trying was going to get this apartment. It was simply out of my reach, and always would be. Short of begging and stealing, it was just not in the cards. I was adult enough to know my limitations, own them, accept them, and move on.

What a depressing thought.

Well…screw that!

I wanted it.

And I was going to take it.

When you want something, you fight for it.

The cost doesn’t matter.

Begging and stealing were now on the table.

I would find a way—no matter what.

It would be mine.

I was invested in Alex. I’d wagered my entire heart, all of my body, the whole of my brain. The truth was, even if I wanted to, I couldn’t walk away. He was stuck with me, and I was going to fight for him.

“Alex.”

He didn’t respond.

“I want you.” I tugged my hand even as I squeezed his. His large round eyes peered up at me, uncertainty and apprehension mucking the pure cobalt blue of his eyes.

“I want you in a box, and with a fox.”

His forehead wrinkled in confusion.

“And in a train, and in the rain. With a mouse, and in a house. In fact….” I knelt before him, holding his beautiful eyes with my red-rimmed, crusty, blotchy ones. “I want you in my life for an indefinite period.”

His gaze of confusion gradually morphed into a glare of suspicion. “I’m not going to be one of your friends, one of your mental patient strays.”

“Well I should hope not. I don’t nag strays about leaving socks around the apartment. And I don’t have sex with them either. Speaking of apartments, I’m moving in here.”

“I thought you couldn’t afford it.”

“I can’t. But I’ll find a way.”

Suspicion and doubt sparred with hope as his gaze searched mine.

I gave him a half smile. “And,” I stood dramatically, “I want you in the bathtub, in ten minutes, after I pee.” I winked at him, gave him a half-lidded come-hither look, then turned and left with flourish. I stood in the hallway that led to the bedrooms, proud of myself and my theatrical exit. But then I had a thought, and I rushed back to the living room.

He was still sitting in the chair, watching the spot where I’d been kneeling. “Not in the bathtub. I’m not going to pee in the bathtub. I’ll pee in the toilet. Then I’ll flush it. Then you should come in—but give me ten minutes.”

A small smile tugged at his mouth, his eyes shining. “Sounds like a good plan.”

“Okay. Good. We have a plan.”

“Yes.” His gaze held mine; I felt a burst of both excitement and calm. “We do.”

CHAPTER 25

Janie was right. The bathtubs were, quite possibly, my favorite part of the apartment. Of course, epic bathtub sexy times with Alex might have been responsible for my bias.

Our lovemaking wasn’t frenzied like before, but was no less passionate. I washed him, carefully, reverently, lovingly. I couldn’t erase his lifetime of scars. Scars are permanent, but I hoped my ministrations would be the first step toward helping them fade and ensuring that he felt treasured, because I treasured him.

I sought to reassure him that I wanted him, that he was wanted desperately, entirely, just as he was. I may have wanted to help him, but I couldn’t fathom loving him more.

When he could take my gentle touches no longer, he grabbed my wrists and brought me to his lap. I didn’t object when we made love without protection; I wanted no barriers between us. Never again.

I came to him willingly, pliantly, unquestioningly, and let him use my body as he would, for his pleasure, to assuage his desire. My kisses were a salve. My touch was meant to comfort.

Our goal wasn’t release. Neither of us sought to end the moment; rather, we prolonged it, relished in sharing our bodies as a symbol of sharing our souls, breathing the same air. The slippery friction of soapy water heightened the sensation of dissolving into each other.

And when we reached our shared bliss, his eyes shone, though he never cried. But I did.

Not snotty, messy, heart-wrenching tears of sorrow, like before. But, instead, tears of longing and hope for our future—together.

He moved to hold me after, shifted me around so that my back was cradled against his chest. I rejected his efforts and instead held him, cradled him, showered him with kisses and love. I may have been suffocating him with my affection, but I didn’t care.

I needed to smother him. I needed to warm him and defeat the numbness, rip it away. I needed it.

We drew fresh water twice, reluctant to leave the tub, the soothing sounds of water. But we were forced from our white, whirlpool cocoon by wrinkly fingers and fatigue.

Sleep, surprisingly, came quickly. First him, then me, our bodies tangled together in a Mobius knot of limbs. My last thought, before I drifted to sleep, was that I didn’t know where I began and he ended.

***

Alex woke me up, on purpose.

I squinted at him then around the room, searching for a clock. There was none.

“Sandra….” his voice was indulgent, sweet—but still sexy. It was always sexy. “Do you want to come with me?”

I blinked, my eyes swollen and puffy from my earlier cry. “Where are you going? What time is it?”

I looked to the window for a clue. The sun was up, but the day was overcast. It could be the middle of the afternoon.

He brushed my hair away from my face, placed a gentle kiss on my lips. “It’s eight. And it’s Sunday. Do you want to come with me?”

Eight…Sunday.

Sunday.

I bolted upright in bed, rubbed my eyes, and blinked at him again. “It’s Sunday.”

He was fully dressed in his usual all black, and wearing that damn windbreaker that I hated for its ineffectual warming abilities. His hands were tucked in the pockets.

“How did you…?” I frowned at him, his clothing. “Did you bring a change of clothes? When did that happen?”

“No. I ran home and changed, grabbed a bag of stuff. By the way, I hope you like apple fritters.”

I smelled them as soon as he said it. I also smelled coffee. My eyes a little less hazy now, I took in his appearance and the room.

He looked refreshed, content, happy even. My heart did little gymnastics exercises in my chest. He wore an open, welcoming smile.

I glanced around me and found a plate of apple fritters and two mugs of coffee on the nightstand.

“You made breakfast?”

He shook his head. “No. Your friend Elizabeth and her husband stopped by with them—and the coffee—a little bit ago. I told them you were still sleeping.”

I wasn’t completely embarrassed, but I was a little embarrassed. I’d asked to use the place for the night, and I was a grown woman, Elizabeth knew enough about our situation to understand why we needed the place. Still, I was embarrassed.

“They seem nice.” Alex said the words as though the thought confused him, as though it would be strange for nice people to exist.

“They are. You’d like Nico. He’s a comedian.”

“You mean he’s a funny guy?”

“No. He’s an actual comedian. He has his own show on TV.”

“Really?” He sounded surprised, suspicious even, like I was trying to pull a fast one over him.

“Really.” I reached for the coffee, treated myself to a whiff of the fritters. “I told you, the world is full of unbelievable people.”

“Huh.” Alex frowned, shrugged. “You’re right. That’s pretty unbelievable.”

I watched him over my mug, propping myself against the pillows and allowing the sheet to slip to my waist. Because, really, what was the point?

Alex’s eyes, which were contemplative after my news about Nico, immediately refocused to my bosom. Score a point for boobs.

“So,” I took a sip of my coffee. It was still hot. “Where are we going?”

“Going?” He no longer looked contemplative. He just looked distracted.

Boys and boobs.

Now I understood the point. I lifted the sheet to cover my chest and waited ’til his eyes met mine. “Where are we going today? You asked if I wanted to go.”

“Oh. Yeah. That. We could just stay here instead.”

“No.” I pushed him with my foot, leveled him with a narrowed glare. “I want to go with you. I want to discover how you spend your Sundays.”

Alex placed his hand on my leg over the covers and reached for his own coffee. “It’s not very exciting.”

I shrugged. “Doesn’t matter. I want to know everything.”

His expression fell a bit, though he tried to hide it with a sip from his coffee. “Even after last night?”

I held his gaze this time, dared him to look away. “Especially after last night.”