Chapter 36

Thirty-Six

Kyleigh

I'm sitting cross-legged on my couch, my sketchpad on a pillow on top of my lap with Southern Charm playing in the background. I draw a few lines and tear off the piece of paper, crumpling it and tossing it into the growing pile on the floor.

A knock sounds on my door. Since I'm not expecting anyone, I almost don't get up to answer it. Someone probably let a solicitor into the building.

"Leigh…Kyleigh."

Oh my god. Rowan.

I toss the pillow and sketchpad off my lap and look down at myself. Of course he picks the day I'm in sweats and an oversized T-shirt, no makeup and my hair thrown up in a messy bun.

I tiptoe over and look out the peephole. There he is, and holy shit, his eye is swelling, and there's a bruise forming on his cheek.

I swing open the door. "Rowan!"

He walks in. "I'm sorry. I'm an asshole."

I shut the door behind him, taking in his face in horror. "What happened?"

"I should've come sooner." His eyes are imploring.

"Your eye." I go to the freezer, grab a cool pack, and wrap a dish towel around it. "Did something happen at practice? You take an elbow?"

I place it on his face, and he winces, covering my hand with his, and I quiet the flutters in my stomach. Don't get excited, we don't know why he's here. Just because he walked in with an apology doesn't mean he wants to be with me.

"Your brother happened."

"Seriously?" My mouth drops open.

He shakes his head. "Let's save it for later. Can we talk?" He grabs my hand and leads me over the couch. His gaze falls to the sketchpad as he moves the pad and pillow out of the way. "What's this?"

I shake my head.

"Yeah, later," he says and waits for me to sit before he sits next to me. "I'm?—"

"No. Let me explain." I blow out a breath. "Keep the ice pack on, okay?"

He lowers it to his lap. "I'm fine."

"Just." I pick it up and put it back on his face. "For a little bit." He smiles at me, and goose bumps cascade over my skin. "What?"

"You care about me still. I haven't completely blown this, have I? On the way over, I thought maybe I'd lost you."

"Oh jeez," I say, surprised. "I owe you an explanation."

He doesn't say anything, and I gather the courage to tell him what happened the day we met.

"The night I met you at the wedding is the same night I walked in on my mom with another man. I was in a bad headspace and thought a night with you would distract me from my troubles. My mom is a popular wedding dress designer and my mentor. I worked for her. Life as I knew it shattered like glass at my feet that day. Everything I believed, everything I grew up to depend on was gone. My parents were always the ideal couple to me. Something I aspired to be a part of. My mom even used our family as part of her branding for the business—one big happy family."

He slides closer, his hands covering mine to stop them from shaking. I grip his calloused hands, and my body calms as it always does when we touch.

"But you were nothing like I thought. I figured you'd be the usual cocky, arrogant hockey player. I mean you're so good and so well-known, I assumed you'd only want to spend one night with me, so what was the harm? Conor was playing in Florida. But I wasn't sure if you'd remember me or if Conor would have ever referenced me in college, so I lied about my name, and I'm sorry. I just wanted that one thing for myself that night, even if it was selfish."

He nods, and his thumbs run over my fingers.

"Then when you saw me at breakfast and asked me to continue the arrangement, I wanted to because when I was with you, all that crap in my life didn't exist. It all disappeared, and I liked not having to feel all that pain. But I also liked you. As time went on, I didn't want us to end. By the time Conor was traded, I was invested. I'd already fallen for you, and every time I saw you, I told myself to tell you, to come clean, but I didn't want it to end. I'm sorry. I know I lost your trust."

He studies me for a moment before he speaks. "Can I ask you a question?"

I steel myself. "Anything."

"Was it just the sex? The sex that let you forget?"

I sigh and give him a sad smile. "I wish. These past six days, I so wished that was the case because if it was, you'd be replaceable."

"Well, I don't know about that." He smirks, and something unknots in my chest.

"It's you, Rowan. Your humor, your kindness, your supportive nature, it's all of you. The entire Rowan Landry package." He opens his mouth, but I put up my hand. "No, I purposely used your full name because being a hockey player is a part of you, and I lo…like him too."

He places the cold pack on the table. "I should've let you explain that night. I automatically put up my defenses and shoved you aside. That was so wrong, and I'm sorry. I'm so sorry, Le…Kyleigh."

I smile. "I'm the one who lied. Had I told you the truth earlier, we could've dealt with it together. I'm sure the shock?—"

"Stop making excuses for me. I know what I was feeling for you. I just disregarded it, and that wasn't fair to you. I'll never do it again. I promise." He releases one of my hands and places his hand on my cheek. "And I always make good on my promises. Do you forgive me?"

I nod. "Do you forgive me?"

He nods. "That's why I'm here. These last six days have been miserable, but I'm most upset that I failed you, and I need to make that up to you."

"You didn't. I failed you."

"We failed one another."

I'll never fault him for needing time to sort out his feelings, although it was torture waiting. "Rowan?—"

He leans forward. "No." He shakes his head then presses his lips to mine and pulls back. "I love you, Kyleigh Nilsen. Will you be my girlfriend?"

I giggle, and tears spring to my eyes. He loves me.

Rowan draws back.

"Could you have asked me when I had mascara on at least?"

He tucks a stray piece of hair that's escaped my messy bun behind my ear. "You're the most beautiful I've ever seen you right now."

"Good line," I say.

"If you'd rather me be a jerk…"

I grab his shirt and bring him to me. "I love you too, and I'd love to be your girlfriend, Rowan Landry."

His lips land on mine, and I release his T-shirt, wrapping my arms around his neck.

"We're gonna need a bed for this." He picks me up bride style and walks us to my bedroom.

He lays me down on the mattress, and I grab the hem of my T-shirt to take it off, but he covers my hand with his. "That's my job." Kneeling on the bed, he lowers himself over me, resting his weight on an elbow and pushing more stray hairs from my face. "You're so stunning."

He runs his hand down my torso, between the valley of my breasts, and fiddles with the hem of my shirt. Then he draws his hand up and under, his palm skating over my flesh, raising my shirt inch by inch. I suck in a breath when his hand covers my bare breast.

"Oh, I like this. New rule, no bra whenever I'm over." He tweaks my nipple, and I run my hand along his strong bicep and corded forearm.

"Rowan," I say, almost as if this is a dream, and he's not really here. A half an hour ago, I felt despondent. Now, I couldn't be happier.

His gaze floats up to mine. "You snuck up on me."

"You did, too. At a time when I didn't believe in love or forevers."

He kisses my forehead. "You're the best surprise of my life."

Tears spring to my eyes, but I don't want to cry. I don't want to ruin this moment between us. His hand moves off my breast, and he swipes away a tear that slips down the side of my face. "You're killing me."

"No. I'm just loving you," he says.

I run my hand through his hair and rest it on the back of his neck, pulling him down to kiss me. He doesn't rush our kiss. We're not tugging and ripping clothes off one another. We take our time and explore because now we know we have all the time in the world to be together. There's no longer an urgency based on the fear that we're going to lose this. I've never felt so at peace.

He kisses every inch of my skin, and my hands roam every inch of his.

Once we're naked, and he's between my legs with a condom on, we stare into each other's eyes as he pushes inside me. The thrusts aren't hard and fast, but languid and thorough. We're not screaming or grunting, we're moaning and sighing.

My fingers run lazily down his spine, and his mouth barely leaves mine except to take me in. When my orgasm climbs to the point I can no longer hold it back, I come staring into the blue hues of his eyes, knowing he'll always catch me.

His orgasm follows mine, and he jerks then stills but doesn't withdraw, instead staying inside me because he doesn't want this moment to end. We both don't want the connection we feel in this moment to be over.

I'm not naive enough to think that our life will be perfect from here on out. We'll have our arguments and disagreements, but I will forever remember that we have moments like this where we cherish and love one another. That will get us through the hard times.

If someone would've told me the night I met him that we'd be here, I'd have told them to have another shot of tequila. But in our case, I'm so happy to be wrong.