Chapter 16

The bulk of November passed by in a beautiful autumnal blur. I spent any time I wasn’t at work or playing with my daughters with Robin. Coffee dates snuck into the middle of the day between my appointments. Matinees at the theater, playing Christmas movies. Little walks after dark, with each of us holding one of the girl’s hands. We checked out the lights down at the pond, all of us puffing in the chill.

I did my best to give Robin everything on his Christmas to-do list.

On one rather lovely night right before the last leaves fell, Robin accompanied us to a bonfire in the woods. We’d filled up on apple cider and craft beer, and he’d somehow gotten Rosie to agree to do the Macarena with him. Which was as silly as it was impressive.

Watching them wiggle their butts in the same direction while Jane curled up against my shoulder was probably my favorite memory in the world. It felt right. To share that with him. For Robin to have so easily slipped inside my world. He was as stubborn as a thorn, and I knew one day if he left, I’d feel that ache forever.

Like Mama had said though, some things were worth the inevitable pain.

And if there was one thing I was coming to recognize about Robin Johnson, it was the fact that knowing him—for however long I would be blessed to know him—would be worth every resulting heartache.

Maybe that was love.

Accepting that one day you might lose the person that made your heart full, but choosing them anyway. The deeper I sank, the harder it would be to heal, but I was at peace with that.

On Sundays we’d all train together, Robin would spend the night, and I would spend as much time as I could inside his body. Fingers, tongue, whatever he’d let me. I learned him, inside and out, and on the nights when he was simply too tired to do anything but curl in my arms and rest, I held him.

Because that was perfect too.

It was a pattern. A beautiful, glorious, wonderful pattern. Like a patchwork quilt, different squares, all sewn together to make what would one day be the stories I told my grandchildren. They’d ask me if I’d ever been in love, and Robin’s eyes would come to mind. His laugh. His smile. The way he was more open than anyone I’d ever met, and yet more guarded too.

Like his heart was under lock and key.

Like he had one foot out the door, even as he gave me everything he had to give.

He was…

He was the kind of man that inspired sonnets and love songs. Which was fitting, considering what he did for a living. I found myself shifting, my world brighter than ever before, my smiles more freely given.

Well-meaning folk on the street commented on my changed demeanor. And Mama asked me when the wedding was going to be—she was joking, obviously—but still, that only inspired more ideas. Fantasies that made my heart flutter and my world a brighter place.

My books took a positive turn.

A turn I hadn’t expected.

Even seeing the women I’d been raised by giggling about the rimming and felching I’d written could not dampen my newfound joy.

And as the last of Belleville’s autumn leaves withered and fell away, I felt myself falling with them.

I never wanted it to end.

But even I knew something needed to give. At least…if Robin and I were going to figure out how to make this work between us after Christmas had ended and he’d gone back to L.A. I wasn’t opposed to a long-distance relationship. I visited California often enough because of book signings that we could see each other. And I had more than enough money to make those visits more frequent.

After watching the way he’d bonded with my daughters, I was more than a little inclined to foot the bill to have him more permanently in our lives. They loved him. Adored him, really. Even if they teased and prodded and poked him.

“Your hair looks bad,” Rosie had told him one day as they’d sat across from each other at the breakfast table. Robin had blinked, slow and sleepy, the way he did for the first half hour after waking up. His hair truly had looked bad, sticking up in every direction, white and fluffy. He’d had a pillow crease on his cheek, which I couldn’t help but find endearing.

He’d barely reacted to Rosie’s barb, other than to flick a blueberry at her.

To which she’d stared at him, and stared, and stared .

And then started giggling so ferociously it should’ve probably made him frightened. For the rest of the morning, she’d followed him around, chucking blueberries at him in revenge. And Robin, gamely, would simply laugh and bat them off.

I’d put a stop to it, of course.

And we now had a rule that throwing food was prohibited. But still. Watching them play together, comfortable and happy, made me feel warm in a way I never knew I could.

I’d never seen my children take to another person the way they had with Robin.

And while he knew exactly when to bluster to make them laugh, he was gentle with them too. Once, when I was cooking dinner—Jane was crying in the corner, and Robin came to the rescue. I’d been trying to get her to open up about what had happened, but she’d been tight-lipped and red-faced, and retreated to lick her wounds in private.

I’d decided to give her space until she was ready to be comforted.

But apparently the person she’d wanted hadn’t been me.

Because when Robin had showed up, pushing through the front door using the key I’d given him, she’d immediately made a beeline right for him. Her chubby hand had cupped his, tugging him into the corner where she’d hidden earlier. He flashed me a single, concerned glance, but happily followed along.

He’d sat down beside her, silent and careful, and gingerly offered her a shoulder to cry into. And after twenty minutes of whispering back and forth both of them had come into the kitchen with matching smiles on their faces. Robin had told me later that she’d been upset about play practice earlier that day, and he’d offered to help her practice.

After that…there was no stopping the torrent of feelings inside me.

I’d never expected to find a partner. I’d never looked . And yet, one had stumbled upon my little nest and found me anyway. It seemed the universe was looking out for me because Robin was the happiest accident I’d ever made.

Which…was why I’d asked Mama to watch the girls on a weeknight—which I never did—so that I could take Robin out on a date. A real one. I didn’t give it a name. Because I could see Robin’s wings spread any time I got even remotely serious, ready to take off.

Maybe he just needed more time.

Needed to decide he wanted us as much as we wanted him.

Me

Does seven work?

Robin

Hi, Ben-nana bread

Also, duh

I mean yes

Sorry

That was rude

I think…?

I got excited!

Me

You’re fine. Wear comfortable shoes.

Robin

What does that mean?

I could picture his face so easily then, the little scrunch between his brows, the way he bit his lip piercing when he was confused. He was probably worried I wanted him to wear something less flashy so that we wouldn’t stick out, though that was not the case at all.

Me

It means we’re walking and I don’t want you to get blisters.

Robin

Please tell me we’re not going hiking

One of the girls was eyeing my mother’s walls critically, her markers clutched tight.

“Rosie, don’t even think about it,” I said, soft but stern. She slumped, disappointed to have been thwarted.

“But—”

“Don’t you think Grandma will be sad if you draw on her walls?” I arched a brow, waiting patiently for her to come to the same conclusion I had. Nodding sullenly, Rosie sighed unhappily. I grabbed a piece of paper out of my work satchel, passing it to her with a smile. “This will be better,” I hummed, watching as her little face stared at the paper dubiously, as if to say—how in the world is this better? “Then I can hang it up at the office.”

That got her attention.

Rosie’s eyes widened and she immediately clutched the paper close to her chest. Then she beamed at me and scurried off to make me a masterpiece.

When I turned back to my phone, I discovered that Robin was panicking.

Robin

…

Ben

Ben Ben Ben Ben

Ben please tell me we’re not hiking. I hate hiking. Oh god.

Me

We’re not going hiking.

I put him out of his misery, crossing an ankle over my leg and leaning back as I texted him again.

Robin

Thank god.

Me

Walking shoes, Robin.

Robin

what if I told you I only have one pair of shoes?

Me

I would ask if they’re comfortable.

Robin

they are

Me

Then you’re fine, baby.

Robin

I love that you text like an old man with perfect grammar and shit

this is my new favorite thing about you

second only to the way you say bussy like you’re eighty years old

Me

Jesus Christ.

Robin

I also love the way you say Jesus Christ. All grouchy and amused. You’re cute, Ben Ben.

The cutest

Me

Try and wear something somewhat warm, please.

Robin

so now you’re ignoring me

I see how it is

ignore my love, Ben Ben

Texting was getting me nowhere. Robin was clearly excited, and because I wanted to hear that excitement for myself, I called him.

Mama walked into the room at the same time the call connected. She tilted her head curiously at me as the twins marched right past her and toward the counter and where the snack I’d prepared them sat in matching black bowls. Chopped apples and peanut butter to dip it into. It was their favorite.

They shuffled away once they’d acquired their food, returning to their now-shared art project across the room like they were returning to battle.

“Hi, sexy doctor man,” Robin’s voice was way too loud because Mama’s head snapped toward the phone, her eyebrows shot up, and a wicked grin spread across her lips.

“Hi, baby,” I hummed, tilting away from her knowing gaze, my cheeks burning as I spoke more quietly. “I’ll be there to pick you up at seven thirty,” I hummed. “Wear my hoodie, okay?”

Oh god. She was listening . I could feel Mama’s eyes boring a hole into the side of my head.

“Aye, aye, Captain,” Robin said in the way he always did. Then he lowered his voice conversationally. “I have a surprise for you.”

I didn’t like surprises.

I never had.

Everyone knew this.

But I wasn’t about to tell him that.

“I love surprises,” I lied, immediately very aware that Mama would see right through that statement. She laughed, proving that I was correct, and I shrank even lower. I should’ve taken the call outside, I realized belatedly.

“No, you don’t,” Rosie said, because she always had something to say. Mama laughed at her too, and I prayed to God that Robin hadn’t heard.

“You don’t like surprises?” Robin had, in fact, heard because he sounded concerned.

“I do,” I quickly reiterated. Rosie opened her mouth again, her little teeth flashing, and before I could think it properly through, I rushed to speak, “I like them if you’re the one planning them.”

Robin was silent for a solid ten seconds.

When he spoke again his voice was hushed, reverent. “That’s super fucking sweet, Ben.” It was hoarse. The way his voice only got when he was overwhelmed. “Fuck. You’re just…fuck, man. What am I even supposed to say to that?”

I smiled, unable to help myself.

Mama continued to stare at me like I’d grown a second head.

“You’re perfect,” I hummed softly, because he was—and he sounded self-conscious. “Seven thirty. Okay, sweetheart?”

“Seven thirty,” Robin agreed, all his joking forgotten for now. “I’ll wear warm socks and the hoodie you gave me.”

“Good boy.”

“See you soon, Ben.”

“Pack an overnight bag.”

“What kinda girl do you think I am?” Robin gasped in mock outrage. Quicker than I could blink he was back to serious again. “I’ll get it all ready. Tell the twins I said hi?”

“I will.”

“Cool. See you soon, Ben Ben.”

“Goodbye.”

When I set my phone down, Mama was leaning against the doorway, still staring at me. Behind her, the girls had moved on—feigning disinterest even though I knew they were eavesdropping on our every word.

“I’ve never seen you act this way,” Mama said, sounding giddier than she should’ve. “I knew you could do it!” she declared, like seeing me in love was the most impressive thing I’d ever done. She said it in the same tone she’d told me she was proud of me when I’d graduated medical school. I wasn’t sure if I should be elated or offended.

“I told you I like him,” I countered, cheeks hot.

“Hearing about it and seeing it are two different things,” Mama said wisely. “Happy is a good look on you, Benjamin.” On her way past, she squeezed my shoulder before stopping behind me, turning the sink on, and filling a glass with tap water. She took a sip, and I watched her, cheeks still impossibly hot.

“ Mama ,” I complained, ready to die because this was so embarrassing .

I couldn’t just walk out. She was offering to watch the girls. Besides, she was my best friend, and even though the teasing was nearly painful, I figured she’d earned it.

“You make the cutest faces!” She cackled, a smile hidden behind her water glass. “I can’t wait to tell Matilda.”

“ Weird faces,” Rosie piped up, proving once again that she was listening. I covered my face with one hand, horrified and amused all at once.

I supposed they were weird faces.

At least where the twins were concerned.

I’d never looked at anyone like I looked at Robin.

I never wanted to.

“Stop being so freakishly tall,” Robin complained when he realized that he was still too short to kiss me without my help, even while standing a step above me on an escalator at the outdoor mall.

“Watch your step,” I said, instead of giving in to his flirting. There was a time for flirting. And it was not at this moment, when one misstep could lead to injury. Escalators were one of the things I hated most in this world.

I eyed it distrustfully as Robin stepped off of it—confident, despite being the kind of man with two left feet and no sense of self-preservation. My own step was measured and careful, less of a flounce, as I made it onto solid ground and tried to calm my racing pulse.

Robin, to his credit, must’ve noticed how nervous I was because he reached out with one hand and curled his mittened fingers around my own.

“Don’t worry,” he said softly.

I’d been told not to worry many times in my life. And it had always, in turn, caused me to worry more. Weirdly enough, in this case though, Robin’s magic words somehow worked. Because his “don’t worry” wasn’t an empty platitude.

It was his way of keeping me present.

His way of promising to be more careful in the future.

I squeezed his hand back, tightly, and he grinned, bumping our shoulders together.

A chilly breeze danced through the walkway, cutting through the open air. It was dark already. A fact that felt like home, and yet I’d always hated. Hated when the winter nights crept in, the world went dark, dark, dark, and time seemed to work on a shorter schedule.

“Now that we’re away from the scary escalator,” Robin tipped his head up, eyes dancing. “How about that kiss?”

I leaned down, grinning as I took his mouth in a searing, lingering kiss.

A camera flashed, and I flinched, pulling back in surprise.

Robin froze, his smile wobbling as he twisted around, the loose posture he’d had only moments prior now stiff and uncomfortable.

“What’s wrong?” I asked. The family that had been posing in front of the North Pole display we’d stopped by, continued taking photos. Flash, flash.

“It’s nothing,” Robin said, despite the fact it was obviously not nothing.

I didn’t push.

But Robin didn’t relax. As we shopped for winter clothes for him, he remained stiff and curled in on himself. He continuously glanced around us, as though he was scared to be out in public.

As if he was…

As if he was scared to be out in public… with me.

I stiffened too.

I tried to push the thought to the side. Because I knew that wasn’t like Robin at all. Not the Robin I knew. But this icy, paranoid, uncomfortable person beside me didn’t feel like my Robin anymore. He tried to pay for the clothing I’d selected for him, but I refused, carefully pushing his credit card to the side.

It was a black card.

His wealth had never been more obvious than it was in that moment.

It felt like a cavern had opened up between us and I hated it.

This was the first time we’d felt off when we were together. And I didn’t…I didn’t know how to fix it. Robin said thank you and smiled at me when the clerk handed me back my own card and then the now-full shopping bags, but his smile was a hollow ghost of the smile he usually gave me.

And that was…god.

It was awful.

Rather than let the rest of the night go on like this, I urged Robin toward a private space inside the outdoor mall. It was my favorite spot to take the girls. Sometimes they’d get overstimulated in public and need a moment of quiet.

Off the beaten path lined with shops, there was a tiny little grove. They usually set it up for Santa’s Village, or the Easter Bunny in the spring, but it wasn’t late enough in the year for that. Which meant it was empty as we arrived, and I gently steered Robin toward the solitary bench near the back end of the little cove. I urged him to sit, hovering over him as I debated what to do.

The echo of the mall was still behind us, but it was quieter now. Quiet enough I could hear the panicked uptick of Robin’s breath as he did as he was told without complaint, his broad shoulders shuddering.

What was?—

What…

Oh.

It had taken me far too long to realize what was going on, considering the fact I had panic attacks myself. But there was no denying what exactly was happening to Robin now as he quaked and quaked, sitting in my shadow, his green eyes half-lost.

“Oh, darling,” I sighed, sinking down to my knees, despite their immediate protest. They ached as I hovered my hands over Robin’s cheeks, pausing before touching him, because I didn’t know if it would be welcome. “Can I touch you?”

“Just…just a little, okay?” Robin nodded jerkily, his breaths still ragged, his body still pulled in tight. Fight or flight. I could see it now. See the way he itched and itched to run. “Just my face.”

His skin was icy cold as I cupped his face in my palms, gently stroking over it.

“It’s okay, sweetheart,” I promised quietly.

We sat there for a long time.

Long enough I wasn’t sure my frozen legs would be able to cooperate. My back protested the odd position, but I fought through the pain, waiting for Robin’s eyes to clear and his body to soften. When it did, I could finally breathe again.

“I’m sorry,” Robin said, his voice crackly and low with remorse. “Sometimes I just?—”

“The camera,” I murmured, continuing to stroke his cheeks.

“I thought someone took a picture of us,” Robin replied, confirming my earlier fear. The one I’d tried not to think about. I must’ve made a face, because he was quick to assuage my fears. “I don’t want to ruin your life,” he said, voice wavering like it only did when he was hurting.

I remembered the way he’d been recognized at the airport.

The way he’d held himself then, uncomfortable but earnest, as he’d done his best to give advice to the little boy who had approached him unsolicited.

Icy clarity washed over me, and I sat up a little taller.

“You hate it,” I said, genuinely surprised.

“Hate…what?” Robin echoed.

“You hate being famous.” It wasn’t a question so much as it was an observation. It was odd. Normally someone with Robin’s background would’ve thrived on the attention he never received as a child. He was a walking contradiction.

“Yeah,” Robin admitted, like he had just given me nuclear launch codes. “I do.” His face pinched. “You can touch me more now. I’m okay.”

Forcing myself up—Jesus god, that hurt—I slid onto the bench beside him. It felt second nature to stretch an arm behind him and pull him in close. Just as naturally, Robin wiggled till his chin was sandwiched on my chest, his green eyes blinking up at me.

“That must be hard,” I said, staring down at him as he picked at the seam on the side of my jeans without noticing that was what he was doing.

“I didn’t realize,” he admitted, nervously pick, pick, picking away. “Not until it was too late to take it back.”

“You’re more relaxed in Belleville,” I realized, stroking up and down his back just the way he liked. He melted into the touch every time, like he’d never been touched before in his life. Not this way, gently and without expectation.

“No one knows me there,” Robin shrugged. “It’s like…an alternate dimension or something.”

“Why didn’t you tell me?” I asked, continuing to stroke. “We could’ve done something else?—”

“You wanted to take me shopping,” Robin protested, sitting up straighter, his chin really digging in. “It was so sweet. No one’s ever wanted to do that for me before.”

“We could’ve shopped online.”

“It’s not the same.” Robin sucked in a breath. “Look,” he said, softly but firmly. “I’m tired of missing out on being a real person.” There was nothing but sincerity in his eyes. “And if I didn’t want to come I would’ve told you.”

They said, believe me.

They said, I know my limits.

They said, don’t take this from me.

And what was I supposed to say to that?

“It’s not that I don’t want to be seen with you,” Robin said, somehow reading my mind. “Except that it kinda is?” he added, shrugging one shoulder self-consciously. “Because if they see us together—if they take pictures, and find out who you are—your peace is shattered, just like mine has been.”

“Oh, Robin .”

“I don’t want Rosie and Jane to be recognized by the fucking vultures out there,” Robin continued. “I want you all to live normal, happy lives. Without what I am…corrupting them.”

“ Robin ,” I rumbled again because I got the feeling I’d just stumbled upon a landmine. “I’ve known who you were from the start.”

He opened his mouth to protest, so I shushed him softly.

“It’s my turn,” I said, keeping my tone gentle. “Let me finish.”

Robin nodded jerkily, mouth clicking shut as he melted into my side. His eyes were doing that thing again. Growing far away, like he was imagining the best path to take as he ran.

“Robin,” I murmured a third time. I waited till his eyes focused again, and I had his full attention. “I have known since our very first conversation that one day someone might see us together, might take a photo, might expose me and my secrets.”

“Everyone will find out about the werewolf porn, Ben,” Robin’s voice was high-pitched, like he was trying to sound like he was joking when he wasn’t. “They’ll dig up everything. There’s no such thing as true privacy. After a certain point, you’re not a person anymore. Good or bad, everyone will have an opinion about you.”

I understood what he was saying, but he didn’t seem to understand that I already knew that. “ Sweetheart ,” I murmured, my hand squeezing the back of his neck tight. He fought at first, growing stiffer, harder—until abruptly, all at once, he melted, slumping into me gratefully.

“The camera flashed and I just—” his voice was quaking. “I saw your life flash before my eyes. All the things you’d miss out on because of me. All the sacrifices you’d have to make—just because we were together.”

So this was why he always looked ready to run.

It made sense, in a sad, cosmic way.

That here Robin was, beloved by thousands—maybe millions—and in his head he was still the scared little boy whose father had tricked and hurt him. The same little boy that was constantly ignored by his mother. The same little boy who had never felt like he was enough. Who had turned away his chance at a family because he was terrified he would fail the people he loved most. The same little boy who had been conditioned to expect the worst from everyone and everything.

Except…

Apparently me.

Otherwise he wouldn’t be here clinging to me. Wouldn’t be showing me his exposed heart like he knew I’d protect it more fiercely than he ever had. Robin had not only just given me the keys to his heart, he’d opened the lock himself.

It was humbling to be privy to Robin’s darkest secrets.

And I vowed to myself to keep them—and him—safe.

And maybe, just maybe, if I could make him realize the roadblock in his own head, it would mean that there was a future for us outside Belleville and its walls. Like a stray cat, he needed coaxing. Needed to be shown, rather than told.

Still though, there had never been a time in my life when I’d regretted hearing a kind word or reassurance. So I figured I’d start there.

“Robin,” I tried for a fourth time, this time lacing a quiet command in my words. He remained relaxed like it was my bossiness that allowed him to settle. Which was…good to know. “I am well aware of what could happen,” I reassured him again, keeping him close. “And I can tell you right now, that there is nothing that could scare me off.”

He stared at me, like he was looking for a lie, even though there wasn’t one.

“I know because of what you’ve been through, it might be difficult to believe that I’m not lying,” I reassured, because he needed to hear this. “I know that trust for you is hard won. I told you once that I don’t break promises—which I know again, might be hard to believe. It might take a long time for you to understand that I am sincere. That I am not like your father, or your mother, or any of the other people that have wronged you. But I am patient and you are worth the wait, however long it takes. I am a very difficult man to frighten. Especially considering the fact that since the day that I met you all you’ve done is make my life better. And in the meantime, if my secrets are the price I need to pay to keep you, then I will gladly give them away.”

“Good things are worth hurting for.”

Mama’s words came rushing back to me as I pressed a kiss to Robin’s forehead. His skin was no longer quite so cold. He’d stayed quiet the entire time I spoke, listening to me with his heart still hovering vulnerable between us.

“You’re not poison , baby,” I promised, lips still pressed to his skin.

Robin inhaled sharply, a panicked little sound. “Damn. I hate that you remember that I said that.”

“Of course I remember.” I gave him a squeeze. The trees around us rustled. Off in the distance I heard a child’s excited chatter. “How could I forget that my favorite person in the entire world said something so awful about himself?”

“I’m your favorite person?” Robin asked, voice tiny and sweet.

“Of course you are,” I said honestly. “You’re my Robin.”

“Oh,” Robin said, warmth flooding his voice. He wriggled, grinning up at me, the lost look in his eyes gone. “You’re my favorite person too.”

“Don’t lie,” I teased.

“I’m not lying!” Robin replied, aghast.

“You’d pick Mads Mikkelsen over me every day.”

It was a joke, to make him laugh. To shock the last of the chill from his limbs and the ice from his blood. It somehow worked, because Robin cackled, smacking my chest with a happy jerk.

“Shut up,” he snorted, eyes dancing.

And I had to kiss him then, because he was perfect, perfect, perfect.

And he deserved to be loved.

Deserved to be kissed.

Especially in public.

Especially where people could see.

Robin was a little on edge, but for the most part, he remained mostly relaxed while we finished up at the mall. He’d stopped offering to pay after the second time I stared him down, and so, I was more than a little pleased with the wide selection I’d bought him—and his compliance. Everything was in black, because while I wanted him to be warm, I certainly had no intention of changing him.

“Babe you bought me like an entire new wardrobe,” Robin laughed as I hauled his bags in my arms. Normally the weight wouldn’t bother me, but I really had irritated my back a bit earlier, and the strain was making my arms begin to shake. I was doing my best to ignore it, but it was hard not to be frustrated when the last thing I needed right now was my back acting up.

Robin, once again, to his credit, immediately reached out and snatched the bags away from me. We were halfway to the escalator, which made me nervous in general. The idea of accidentally blocking my view with the bags, therefore making it difficult to know when to step off, made me incredibly uncomfortable.

Robin sensed this, clearly, because he went on ahead with a chipper hop to his bow-legged step. When he stepped onto the top step, he twisted to grin at me. “Coming?” he hummed, waiting expectantly as I took a hesitant step onto the moving steps.

“Thank you,” I murmured, cheeks a little hot.

Robin shrugged, arms laden with bags, his solid body brushing against mine as he leaned back fractionally to comfort me. “No problem,” he said, tipping his head back even more so he could grin. He righted himself quickly though, so as not to make me more anxious.

When he carefully leapt off the steps he was quick to shift out of the way so I’d have time to move as slowly as I liked.

My heart fluttered as Robin stepped into line with me the moment we were both on solid ground. It felt second nature to slow my pace so he could keep up as we headed toward the parking lot where my van awaited.

We were only half an hour from the Christmas Market.

It popped up in November each year and stayed till the week before Christmas. Robin had mentioned wanting to visit it the first day he’d come to my office, and I was more than a little giddy at the prospect of taking him.

Tomorrow was the Pie Festival.

Which meant it would be unwise to stay up too late.

Not that I was going to let that stop me.

The girls were with Mama till tomorrow morning and the relay race—and I had… plans. Plans that I was more than a little excited to see Robin’s reactions to.

On the car ride to the market, Robin had about a thousand adorable questions.

He asked me about college. About New York. Asked me about my favorite foods, my favorite book I’d ever written, my favorite TV show.

He said the most brilliant, most hilarious things sometimes.

Especially when he was telling me stories, like…the time that he’d seen a guy cut someone off at a red light—and the stranger had nearly gotten rear-ended because of it, then gotten out of his car and thrown a fit. “Some dudes are assholes,” Robin told me with a pumped-up, angry little frown. “I mean—I’m small. I can’t be small and have small dick energy. Fuck that.”

And.

“I think I’d be a bridezilla if I got married.”

And.

“You ever wonder what that pole that kid licked in A Christmas Story tasted like?”

We’d recently seen that movie in the theater, so I understood why it was on his mind.

My favorite little tidbit of conversation, however, was when he asked me another adorable question. It wasn’t anything anyone had ever asked me before. It felt poignant in a way none of the others had.

“What’s something that makes you irrationally angry?” Robin asked. It was an out-of-pocket question, and I had to fight back a laugh.

“When people don’t use their blinkers,” I responded immediately—because that had literally just happened.

“Tell me another one,” Robin wheedled, wiggling excitedly in his seat.

“Shouldn’t it be your turn?” I replied. We were getting close to the market, and I mourned the fact the conversation would have to end.

“No way,” Robin replied immediately. I snorted out a laugh and tried to come up with another one. It was surprisingly easy. Easier than telling him things I liked, anyway.

“I hate when Trent calls me Doc Ben Ben.”

“Huh.” Robin blinked. “Why?”

Snow glittered on the ground, crunching beneath the wheels of the car as we rounded a corner at a glacially slow pace.

“It feels derogatory,” I hummed, surprised by my own answer. I’d never really thought about it before. “I’m the only member of my family that went away for school. It’s always made me feel like a bit of a black sheep. I guess when he calls me that it only reminds me of that.”

“Why don’t you tell him that it bothers you?” Robin asked, frowning in commiseration like he understood what I meant. Like he understood not quite fitting in, especially when you desperately wanted to.

“Because I know he doesn’t mean to hurt me,” I replied. “And for me…intentions are everything.”

“Even if the person that has good intentions does stupid shit?” I got the feeling we weren’t talking about Trent anymore.

“Of course,” I replied evenly, meaning every word.

“I’m not like that,” Robin replied. “Like you. I’m not all…magnanimous or whatever.”

“That’s a lie if I’ve ever heard one.”

Robin laughed, reaching over to smack my leg—gently though, because he’d figured out pretty easily what would set off my anxiety, and being distracted at the wheel absolutely made that list.

“Alright, your turn,” I hummed. We turned another corner, and I waited, more than a little eager to hear what he had to say.

Robin hemmed and hawed for a moment before answering.

“I hate… pillow talk. ”

“Pillow talk?” I blinked. “ Interesting .”

“Okay, Hannibal Lecter, what does that say about me?” Robin teased. I could feel him watching me, and when I glanced over briefly, I was right. His eyes were bright and full of affection. He looked so fucking cute all snuggled up in the passenger seat it made me ache.

“I think…” I kept my tone light, heart thumping. “I think you hate pillow talk because you feel like you’re putting on a show.”

“Fuck.” Robin stared at me for a beat, the frankly cutest look of amazement on his face like I’d read his mind. “I think you’re right.”

“You’re a performer that hates to perform.”

“Damn.” Robin’s eyes were wide when I turned back to the road, wishing I wasn’t driving so I could watch him indefinitely. “You know…” his voice was softer. “I think that’s why talking to you doesn’t bother me.”

“Yeah?”

“Because I’ve never been anything but real with you. It’s easy, you know? Easy in a way it’s never been easy before.”

That had to be the sweetest thing anyone had ever said to me.

I made Robin dress up in his new coat and mittens—not borrowed from me, this time—in preparation for heading into the large warehouse-like building that the market was hosted inside. It was wedged deep inside the mountains, and the switchbacks that led to and from it had always given me the heebie-jeebies. The lighthearted conversation in the car had greatly distracted me from that, however, and I was more than a little grateful for that.

“Where are we?” Robin asked, swinging his door open with gusto, his new black puff coat clinging to him as he leapt out of the car. His boots crunched on the gravel underfoot. Above us, the sky was indigo, stars winking between the gaps in the trees.

We were catching the tail end of the day at the Market, but I figured neither of us would care. An hour and a half was plenty of time to knock off another thing on his Perfect Christmas To-Do List.

Robin had confessed to me once, wine glass in hand, that he’d never had the kind of Christmas he’d seen other kids have. That he’d thought the movies were liars—at least till the year he was given time off for the holidays and saw how much effort Miles put into Bubba’s Christmas.

And that was the day he realized it wasn’t a fantasy at all.

It was possible.

You just needed someone to care about you enough to make it happen.

I was going to do my damndest to give him that this year.

I’d already been buying and wrapping presents. They sat hidden in the closet, ready to go out beneath the tree when I set it up. Normally I’d let the girls decorate while I watched, but this year I planned on inviting Robin to join us. I had a feeling that would mean a lot to him.

Robin’s hand clutched mine tight as we made our way inside the building. Warmth immediately flooded forward, making the fact I’d forced him to wear a coat, mittens, hat, and scarf pointless. Still though, he shivered too much in Vermont’s weather for me to feel comfortable allowing him to wander practically naked.

Robin’s eyes were wide as he stared at all the vendors. His chest puffed up as he inhaled greedily the scent of roasted nuts and wax melts filling the air. It was always hectic here. Too many people. Too many things.

I hated it.

But at that moment I loved it. I loved it so fucking much because the look of wonder on Robin’s face was worth any overstimulation I was about to experience.

“Oh my god,” Robin said, voice reverent. “It’s like a fucking movie, man.”

“Are you surprised?” I hummed, more than a little proud of myself.

“Super surprised,” Robin beamed. “Luckily for you, I love surprises,” Robin told me, smacking my chest with one mittened hand. “Omg.” He smacked me again. “This is like, exactly what Hallmark made me think it would be.”

“Yeah?”

“It smells like Christmas in here, Ben!” Robin smacked me a third time. “I think I had a candle that smelled like this one time.” He laughed, head tossing back. “I was on tour.” He flashed me a grin. “I sat in my bunk on the tour bus on Christmas that year and sniffed the fuck out of that thing. I think we were passing through…Kentucky, or something? I dunno. Made me feel less alone.”

That was the saddest thing I’d ever heard.

“Why don’t you pick whatever you’d like,” I hummed, nodding toward the first row of vendors. “My treat.”

“Is everything going to be your treat today?” Robin asked, squinting up at me.

“Yes.”

“Well, okay then, Daddy Ben-bucks.” He snorted out a laugh at his own joke, squeezed my hand tight, and leaned into my side. Glancing up at me through his lashes, shy and all grumbly masculine deliciousness, he added, “You do know I’m loaded, right?”

“Your wallet is no good when I’m around,” I informed him.

“Good to know,” Robin’s eyes crinkled, and something inside them settled.

“And for the record, I, too, am ‘loaded.’” I cracked a smile so he’d know he wasn’t making my wallet hurt by allowing me to take control financially. It gave me a thrill of satisfaction to know he was wearing the clothes I’d bought. That even when I wasn’t around, I was providing for him.

Robin’s eyes widened as he tilted his head and gave me a calculating look. “I knew your cologne smelled expensive,” he muttered under his breath.

And that was that.

We shared a bag of roasted nuts, a styrofoam cup of cocoa—not as good as Belgian cocoa, but still passable—and a cinnamon roll. I said a prayer for my blood sugar, but didn’t complain as Robin led us down each and every aisle on the hunt for gifts for all his favorite people.

It didn’t escape my notice that he didn’t buy anything for himself.

He hesitated when I first brought my card out, probably concerned that my offer to treat him did not extend to all of his purchases today. That was completely incorrect however, and I quickly soothed those fears.

With every purchase I made on his behalf, I stood a little taller.

It was easy to get swept up in this. To feel like I mattered in his world. And it was more than a little satisfying to know that I could take care of him, even at moments like this. The truth was Robin could provide anything and everything for himself, which was why the fact he was allowing me to do this for him meant so much to me.

He eyed a booth full of Christmas ornaments, one in particular that was full of ravens. When he wasn’t looking, I purchased it, careful to slip it into one of the other bags so that I could surprise him with the gift later. So that he’d have ornaments that represented him up on our tree.

Robin carried the bags again, which I appreciated. I needed to lay down at some point, or pop a pain pill or two before I was ready to carry anything heavy. I could feel the foam roller I kept under my bed calling my name, but I didn’t complain.

And despite my irritation that my back was affecting me, I was able to push through. Robin’s smile helped more than he probably realized.

We bought cow sweaters for Miles and Bubba. A small fake tree covered in baubles for Trent. A new e-reader cover for my mother. Art sets for the twins. Furry socks for every one of the kids in Miles’s classes. (That bag was the largest, and lightest somehow).

“Sweetheart,” I murmured softly when we were halfway through the venue. Robin stopped his eager hopping—trying to see over the shoulders of the couple in front of us—and turned his attention to me.

“Yeah?” he asked, arms laden with bags, and yet, one of his hands always remained free to stay snug inside my own.

“Aren’t you going to pick something for yourself?”

Robin blinked at me, brow furrowing like he’d truly forgotten that was his mission in the first place. There was icing on his lips from the cinnamon roll and I reached out to gently brush it off, licking the pad of my finger while he watched.

His cheeks went hot, his fuck-me eyes returning.

Immediately my dick twitched to life.

“It’s hard to pick something for myself,” Robin admitted, instead of beating around the bush. “Will you…pick something for me?”

“Only if you pick something for me,” I countered, heart thumping.

Robin grinned, as if I’d just issued the most amazing challenge he’d ever heard. “Deal.”

He leaned up, waiting expectantly for me to bend so he could smack a kiss against my lips.

“Ew,” a small voice sounded behind us.

I startled, twisting a little at the same time Robin did. Laughter burst free when we both saw who had interrupted us.

Bubba Johnson was staring up at us, face scrunched, his hand clutched tight in Jeremy Collin’s grip. They were sharing a bucket of nuts of their own and eyeing us curiously.

“Bubba!” Robin said, immediately forgetting about me as he tried to surreptitiously hide the bags of presents he’d bought just in case Bubba could see inside them.

“Are you guys on a date?” Bubba asked, eyes gleaming.

“Are you ?” Robin countered, only for Bubba’s eyes to go wide and confused. Jeremy’s face was bright red. For a twelve-year-old he sure looked grown up. Reminded me of what I’d been like as a kid, quiet and large and serious.

“Ew, Duncle Robin,” Bubba laughed. “I’m too young to date.”

“Damn right,” Trent’s voice popped up from behind the two. He was nursing a thermos, probably with the powdery cocoa crap he stocked at his house. I grimaced at him. “Mama didn’t tell me you guys were coming to visit the booth,” Trent said, a knowing glint in his eyes.

“Mama didn’t know,” I countered, eyes narrowing. “No one knew.”

“ I didn’t even know,” Robin piped up, grinning at me. “It was a surprise.”

Trent stared at Robin, then me. He was silent for a beat, processing this. “So you’re here…to surprise Robin—and not to visit the family booth?” He blinked. Trent knew better than anyone how much I hated it here. I avoided it like the plague, I always had. Last year I’d helped out when he’d gotten sick, but that had been out of love for him, and not because I enjoyed this place whatsoever.

My cheeks felt hot as he pieced together what was happening.

The second he did, to his credit, his eyes went round and he jumped to my rescue.

“Alright kiddos—” Reacting quickly, Trent grabbed them both by the shoulders, turned them right around, and steered them in front of him. “Let’s leave the two love birds alone.” He flashed me a grin and a wink. And then he ruined his good brother moment by adding, “Your Uncle Ben’s never been on a date before. We don’t want to mess it up for him.” Trent made sure to speak loud enough I heard.

And I wanted to die.

And also punch him in the face.

“Shithead,” I muttered, and Robin laughed.

“You owe me monies,” he told me in his best Rosie impression. The annoyance Trent’s interruption had caused bled away as quickly as it had come. I leaned down to kiss Robin, aching to taste his laughter.

“You can have all the monies you want if you keep looking at me like that,” I murmured, kissing him softly—the way he’d always deserved to be kissed.

“Teddy bear,” Robin accused against my mouth, muffled and awkward and perfect.

“Only for you,” I promised, because it was true.

Robin fell asleep in the car on the way down the mountain. He had the present I’d picked for him clutched tightly to his chest. I’d caught him eyeing the large round stuffed crow more times than I could count—and covertly, while he’d been distracted sniffing wax melts, I’d nabbed one.

I knew I’d done well, because when I’d presented it to him, his eyes had misted up—and he hadn’t said a word. Just simply tucked into my chest and hugged me as tight as he could.

His present for me had been a pen. It was a fancy pen, made of marbled wood and gold. And I had immediately fallen in love with it. Especially when I realized just how well he’d grown to know me in such a small period of time. This was the kind of gift I would’ve picked for myself. And when he’d tucked it into the bag he’d informed me cheerfully that a “sexy doctor like you needs a sexy-ass pen.”

I didn’t wake Robin.

I let the crunch of gravel beneath the wheels and the fat snowflakes that had begun to fall comfort me as we made our way down the mountain. The van was good in the snow, and it was drifting leisurely enough there was no need to worry.

Still though, I made sure to take each turn slow and steady—both to avoid any icy patches, and so that I wouldn’t jostle Robin while he rested.

It was only after we arrived back in Belleville, traveled down Main Street and past my office to the parking lot behind it, that Robin finally woke up. He snuffled, jolting wide awake only seconds after his first sleepy sigh.

“Oh shit.”

“Shh,” I murmured, gently stroking a hand through his hair as the heater blasted hot air at us both. It ruffled the hair on my arm, but I ignored the odd sensation. “It’s okay.”

“I fell asleep!” Robin stared at me, horrified. “During our date .”

“That’s okay, sweetheart,” I promised. “It was a big day.”

I didn’t point out the fact he’d just acknowledged that it had been a date. It was enough to know that he understood what it’d been. Despite knowing that that had been a slip up on his end, for sure. He was very careful to only ever refer to me as his friend, and our relationship as temporary.

A fact I hoped in time I could change.

Especially after our talk at the mall.

“But I didn’t want to sleep,” Robin tried to explain. “Which—I mean…is crazy, considering how much I’ve wanted that for like…forever. But today I just…I didn’t want to miss a single second.” He stared at me, conflicted.

“The night’s not over,” I murmured, tracing the shell of his cheek and enjoying the way he shivered. “Don’t look so sad.”

“But—” Robin’s voice cracked. “What if this is our only one? And I just…”

“It won’t be,” I promised, leaning over and kissing the frown right from his lips. He hugged his crow plush tighter, and the fluff of the stuffed beast brushed against my flannel as I sank back into my seat.

It took a couple trips to get everything up the stairs. I tried to help, but Robin gave me the grouchiest, most adorable face I’d ever seen, and commanded me onto the couch with a point of his painted finger and a scowl.

“No way, asshole. Sit your gigantor ass down.”

I’d done as I was told, because truthfully, my back was still protesting. When Robin returned after neatly piling all his presents up safely on the kitchen counter, he eyed me with concern.

“What do you need, babe?” he asked, gaze snapping to the cold sweat at my temple.

“Pills in the cupboard, please,” I replied. Normally I’d get up and get them myself. But normally…I was alone.

Robin proved himself to once again be an incredible partner.

Because thirty minutes later, my meds had kicked in, my back was loose and warm, and he was kneading the muscle with his talented hands on my bed.

I’d wanted to take him apart piece by piece.

Wanted to edge and tease and torture him.

I’d had a plan, dammit.

But my body fought me once again—and I had no choice but to concede to it. Robin didn’t seem to mind though as he settled into my side and his fuzzy toes skimmed my thigh. “You wanna watch a movie?” he asked, voice soft.

“Mmm?” I hummed, cracking an eye open to look at him.

He had his phone out, one already loaded up.

It was an old film. White Christmas ? Maybe. When the title popped up, I hummed thoughtfully, realizing I’d been correct.

“I like the music,” Robin confessed, his phone propped up so that I could see it without straining my back. He tangled our thighs together on the bed, and my heart warmed as I soaked him up greedily. His little socked feet kept brushing my calves and shins, legs as short as ever—and I couldn’t help but find that adorable. “This is the kinda shit I wanna make, you know?”

“Why don’t you?” I asked, as the sweet crooning from the microphone filled the room.

“I can’t.” Robin’s brow ticked down. “Label won’t let me.”

I blinked, then frowned. “ Baby .” I twisted to look at him better, noting the unhappy tilt to his lips as he shrugged a shoulder.

“They said it’s not part of ‘my brand’,” Robin admitted, like he was directly quoting someone. “They won’t even let me sing Christmas songs for the Christmas party they’re making me host on Christmas Eve.”

“What party?” This was the first I was hearing of it.

Did that mean he wasn’t going to be home for Christmas?

My heart lurched, some of my fuzziness fading as that realization washed over me like ice water.

“Every year my label does this big Christmas party. They pick an artist, and that artist hosts.” Robin sighed, the movie continuing to play as he pressed his lips into a flat line. “It’s supposed to be this prestigious thing? You know, to be selected .”

“Right,” I agreed, my heart still thumping erratically.

“This is the last year my contract is active before I have to renew it. So I should be happy they asked me to host?” Robin sighed. “But it feels weird …that all these people are going to be at my house. Strangers . And I know that it’s supposed to be this super cool, wonderful thing and yet…they’ve made it clear that I don’t even get to fucking sing what I want to.”

“What if you did it anyway?” I asked, because even though I was still trying to process this new information, I wanted to be here for him.

“Did what?”

“Sang Christmas music.”

Robin blinked, like that thought had genuinely never occurred to him. Then a slow smile broke across his lips—only to fall more quickly than it had arisen. “I dunno,” he hummed, looking pleased but conflicted. “Could get me blacklisted. Make it so that they don’t want to renew my contract. Would be career suicide.”

“Would that be a bad thing?” I wished I could take the words back the second they came out. Robin flinched, like he’d been struck. So I had no choice but to explain myself. “I mean…maybe there are other labels out there? That would allow you to have the freedom to do what you want.”

Robin nodded, like this thought had genuinely never occurred to him before. “I have built a name for myself…” he agreed, pensive.

“You have,” I reached out to stroke his hair out of his face. “Maybe…putting your foot down wouldn’t be such a bad thing?”

“Would people even…want that?” Robin asked, voice wobbly. “I mean. I’m like…a one-trick pony. Except the pony does the same trick over and over—instead of just the one time.”

He was so fucking cute I wanted to bite him.

So I did, sinking my teeth into his shoulder and enjoying his little cackle in reply. “Don’t bite me, motherfucker,” Robin snorted, shoving my head back. His eyes crinkled at the corners.

“Then don’t say mean things,” I replied.

“That’s rude you know,” Robin pointed out. I grinned, wide and unrepentant, and he grinned to mirror mine.

“Think about it,” I hummed, trying not to be biased—and failing. “Maybe you could have a different home base too, if your label changed. Somewhere…snowier.”

Robin grew stiff all over again, his eyes narrowing as he stared at me. It was the same look he always gave me when I pushed too hard, too fast. But I couldn’t stop myself. I was running out of time, and I needed him to know I wanted him here—even if he wasn’t ready to process that yet.

“This bed is awfully big for one person,” I wheedled, keeping my tone light.

“ Yeah , right,” Robin snorted with an eye-roll and the gentlest shoulder-shove known to man. “You’re the size of three people combined. I can barely fit in here, and I’m like a quarter of your size.”

I bit him again and he cackled.

“Belleville needs more emo-punk musicians,” I added, sweetening the pot. Robin looked pleased that I actually knew the correct way to label his music. “More Christmas songs,” I added, tone softening even more. “Love songs too.”

“Your mom wants me to be a wedding singer,” Robin informed me, cheeks pink. “She told me at the book club that your cousin is getting married. Tried to hire me.”

Christ.

I laughed, shaking my head. “I’m sorry?—”

“Don’t apologize,” Robin waved me off. “I like that she doesn’t know who I am. I like that no one does.” He shrugged again. “It’s nice to just be…me, you know? Miles’s big brother. Bubba’s uncle. Your—” Robin cut himself off, eyes widening.

“Tiny goth shadow,” I hummed, even though we both knew he hadn’t been about to say that.

“Yeah, exactly .” Robin bobbed his head.

“Who would bring me coffee when I’m tired if you moved all the way back to L.A.?” I asked, once again trying to entice him. It was silly, bribing him with something that clearly only benefited me. But it definitely worked, because Robin nodded along, like his coffee deliveries were the most important part of his week.

“Who would teach Jane to sing?” Robin fretted, not realizing that he’d been caught in my web.

“She’s worried about the play,” I agreed. “She needs your expertise.”

“But that’s over by Christmas,” Robin frowned. “She won’t need help for long.”

“There are other plays,” I told him, my heart still thumping erratically. “She wants to be a performer. But she’s shy?—”

“Miles was like that too,” Robin informed me, dark brow still knit seriously. “He needed a lot of help socially.”

“You could help her the way you helped him.” I was playing dirty, and I knew it. Robin loved the twins. Probably more than he liked me, if I’m being honest. “You’re better at that than I am.”

“And Rosie —” Robin groaned, mussing up his own hair as he stressed. “Who’s gonna help her with the cat?” Rosie was only five dollars away from meeting her goal, thanks to Robin and his sneaky enthusiasm. “You’re too busy being hot and smart,” he added seriously. “You don’t have time to learn to be a cat dad.”

I bit back a grin. “You would make a great cat dad,” I told him just as seriously.

“I know!” Robin wailed, twisting to look at me again, his pale green eyes fraught with emotion. It took him a second, but it seemed he’d finally caught on to my evil plan. His eyes widened, and then softened. And then his cool, scratchy palm was cupping my cheek. “You are one sneaky bitch, you know that?” he hummed before pinching my cheek to punish me.

I shrugged a shoulder, copying his signature move.

“Hey, Ben?” Robin asked a few minutes later after he’d snuggled into my side and turned his attention back to Bing Crosby.

“Yes?” I asked, sleepy and quiet, tucked up beside him.

“Would you really want me to stick around?” Robin asked, his voice wavering. “I mean…not that I can . But if I could. Would you…would you want that? Not for the girls, or—the coffee or whatever.”

“Of course I would,” I told him honestly. “You’re my sunshine.”

Robin melted, muffling a swear against the pillow and a groan.

He twisted around, phone forgotten completely this time, and as he flung his arms around me he kept his grip gentle so as not to further twinge my back. The fact it was this sore did not bode well for the relay race tomorrow. But I’d already come to peace with losing, and I was fine with that.

“I’m sorry I couldn’t fuck you tonight like I wanted,” I hummed against his downy soft hair. Robin made an angry sound—his head whipping back so he could glare at me.

“Shut up.”

“I wanted to,” I told him, voice more vulnerable than I’d let it be with anyone else. “It’s…” I sucked in a breath. “It’s unfortunate that my body gets in the way sometimes.” I tried to smile, but it was pained. Not because of my back this time, but because I hated that the night hadn’t gone exactly to plan.

It had been a good plan.

The best plan.

And I felt cheated.

“Believe me, I know how that feels,” Robin admitted, voice quiet and hushed. I didn’t think he did. He was young. And he’d never had an injury like the one I’d had.

I must’ve looked confused because he explained, voice shaky, “I dunno if you’ve noticed, but I have pretty severe insomnia?” Robin cracked a smile, trying to keep his tone light even though the topic was very heavy. “It started when I was on the road. There’d be these nights where I was so amped up from performing my eyes just…wouldn’t shut. I’d just lay there—and the harder I tried the worse it became. And then the anxiety started to kick in. And then the late nights got later. And everywhere was unfamiliar , and new —and I was so fucking lonely I just…” he made a soft, frustrated sound.

“After a while, I stopped sleeping at all. And the more desperate I got to fix the issue the worse I made it. Like stressing out about it was actually hurting me more.” Stress was killer on the body, especially for someone who felt their feelings as strongly as Robin did. “When I fell asleep on your arm it was like fucking nirvana,” Robin admitted. “I knew you were special. Ever since then. Like there was just something my body recognized about yours that made you…I dunno—” he cut himself off, obviously embarrassed. “It’s cheesy.”

“Tell me,” I demanded, tone still soft.

“You make me feel safe ,” Robin admitted. My heart ached. Then, because he realized he’d gotten off track—he continued explaining. “Anyway. Sometimes, because of the lack of blood flow and yada yada yada—doctor speak—my dick just doesn’t…”

Oh.

Oh .

It took me a second to understand what he meant. “But you jerked off with my conditioner.” I didn’t mean to say it out loud like that—it simply came out. Robin made a sound like he was dying and hid his face in the pillows.

“That was a celebratory jerk off!” he whined. “Because it’d been a really long time since I’d rested enough that my dick decided to wake up.”

“Robin,” I sighed, melting into him and lacing a kiss against the flushed skin at the back of his neck. “Thank you so much for sharing that with me.”

So he did understand.

Even if our situations were different, they were close enough.

“It made me feel broken for a while, you know?” Robin’s voice was muffled. “But…” He twisted to peep one lovely green eye at me. “I’m not.” He said the last two words with enough confidence that it caused a slow grin to spread across my face. “You taught me that, you know?”

“I did?”

“Yeah. Just now. And before—when you told me about your back.” Robin shifted, peering at me, his cheeks bright red and his expression sheepish. “Made me realize how stupid it was to beat myself up over something I can’t control, when here I am—not mad at you at all for pretty much the same thing.”

“A double standard,” I agreed, so fucking proud of him I wanted to bellow it from the rooftops. I was distracted. Distracted enough, that I hadn’t noticed Robin had not given me the surprise he’d promised.

“Soooo… yeah ,” Robin nodded, making sure I was making eye contact before he spoke again. “You’re perfect the way you are. And there will be other dates—” It was my own words, thrown right back at me like he hadn’t even noticed that’s what he’d done. “So don’t feel bad.” His words were soft and sweet, and as the blanket of snow fell outside, peace fluttered around inside my belly.

Somehow, I knew, deep down, that things were going to work out for us.

I wasn’t sure how.

But they would.

And it was with that confidence that I drifted off to sleep—content that tomorrow we’d be losers together—and I’d get to prove to Robin once and for all that I wanted him, “poison” or not.