65. Chapter Sixty-Five

Chapter Sixty-Five

Anna

" G irl," Aria mutters with a knowing smirk.

I grumble and shuffle my way past her to the kitchen, where I snag a pan and throw it on the stove to heat up. "Need cocoa."

"I bet you do, woman, Jesus."

My feet shuffle toward the fridge, my steps unsteady from the ache Toby left behind. I gather all the ingredients to craft my morning beverage, a replica of the one Toby made for me at the cabin, which softens my already gentle smile even more.

Have I tried to remake it every day since? Yes.

Has it ever come out the same? Nope.

Will I ever tell him that? No.

"So?" she asks from behind her steaming mug, the scent of roasted beans wafting through the air, as I finally turn and lean against the countertop across her seated form. Even in the barstool, she seems taller than me and—

Wait .

My wide eyes land on the Tupperware of cheese left on the counter between us, a few of the cubes plotting their escape across the marble, and I feel all the heat rush to my face.

"I'm dying here, Anna," Aria whines and straightens her spine, her mug settling back on the counter. "Please tell me that was Toby last night."

"Oh God."

"Yep," she mutters with a pop to the word. "Heard you say that a bunch, too."

"Wh-what else did you hear?"

She snorts and lifts her mug to take a sip with grinning lips. "Enough to know you had a good night."

"Shouldn't you be hungover or something?" I scowl and turn away from her to stir my concoction with my achy muscles and a burning face.

Maybe if I avoid answering the question, she'll let it go.

"Honey, it's noon and I have twins at home. I don't know how to hangover anymore."

I whip my head in her direction when her words sink in.

" Noon? "

I rub my dampening brow when her grin only grows.

"I haven't … Oh God . I haven't slept past seven in literal decades, Aria." I feel suddenly hot, my thoughts whirling around all the things I might have missed in the last several hours while I was passed out in the most peaceful sleep I've ever had.

We won't mention that it was in Toby's arms. Nope.

She snorts. "Damn, girl."

"Is that coffee I smell?"

My already stiff muscles tighten at the deep sound of Toby's voice traveling down the short hallway right behind Aria.

I mean she knows, but she doesn't know … right?

When the roughened pads of his fingers touch my jaw and his talented fingers bring my wild eyes to his, my pulse calms.

My thoughts slow.

My smile appears.

"Hey, Mama," he murmurs with a smirk that makes my heart soar, and leans in to ghost his lips over mine in the sweetest kiss.

I melt on the inside at the contact. "Hey."

A clearing of the throat snaps into my subconscious, and I turn to see Aria fanning her face, her lips forming around a single word that makes my chest fill.

Wow.

I bite my lip.

"Don't do that," Toby grumbles, his thumb moving to the base of my lip and pulling it free.

"Why not?" I sass, and the man growls low and deep and close to my ear.

I shiver and giggle.

Just the sound alone is enough to have my stomach clenching and my thighs itching to cross.

Am I dreaming? This has to be a dream.

Toby's thumb feathers over my jaw, a lift to the corner of his lips. "Check your cocoa, Mama."

"Oh!" Whipping around, I take the few steps to the stove and scrunch up my nose. "Dang."

I stare down at the boiling pot, watching clumps move through the foam, the shaved chunks of chocolate still sitting beside it instead of melting into it. I nibble on the inside of my lip, the disappointment sagging my shoulders.

"Here." Hands grip my hips and spin me until my chest collides with Toby's and a gasp escapes my lips. "Let me."

Toby winks, his grasp guiding me to the side of the stove where he moves to take over redoing my cocoa, and I just stand there where he left me.

The bassist is making me hot cocoa in low riding jeans.

The same ones he wore when he snuck in through my window last night.

"Ohhhkay," Aria drags out, drawing my attention. "I knew there was physical shit, but …" She blinks at me, her pointer finger fluttering between Toby and I. "When the fuck did this happen?"

"You didn't hear?" He throws a smirk over his bare shoulder.

"Hear what?" Aria asks with a furrow to her brow and a tilt to her head.

"Last night," Toby chuckles, and Aria snickers.

"Jeffers!" I scold and tap his bare bicep. "Where is your freaking shirt ?"

His gaze drops to my chest, that's covered in a black tee with a giant RHCP printed on the front and two sizes too big.

Busted.

"Where it should be," he answers easily and turns away. "There, or on the floor."

"Floor? Why would you want your clothes on the floor?"

The smirk that flashes over his shoulder in my direction is downright sinful. Add in the way his eyes rake down my body and his brow flexes, and I just …

"Oh." If I was any more slack-jawed at his brazenness, I'd be mopping the floor with my tongue. "Can you not? I have a guest!"

"Don't mind me, boo." Aria snorts. "I'm here for the show. Plus, it's nice to see someone else as bad as my husband." She flashes me a wink that has me sighing at her disappearing back. "You have an hour!" she calls from the hallway and slams the door closed before I can protest.

"Here." The scent of chocolate wafts through the air, and my mouth waters when Toby holds the steaming mug out to me.

"Thank you," I mutter and accept the ceramic, his fingers grazing over mine in the process and sending little tingles up both of my arms.

I take a sip as he watches, his eyes so light it makes my heart ache with hope, and groan aloud when the rich flavor meets my tastebuds.

"I don't understand how," I mutter and stare at the contents like it might whisper his secret.

When I finally snap out of the trance induced by the warm gift, my gaze travels up Toby's tattooed back, the muscles taut, and a wave of uncertainty washes over me. He stands in front of the coffee maker, the cabinet above it open, a mug set before him. Yet he remains still, his jaw clenching, his eyes fixed straight ahead. I follow his line of sight, only to freeze.

Oh, God, please don't.

Toby's hands flex as he wrenches his hardened gaze from the wine bottles next to the coffeepot and whirls toward me. His nostrils flare as if my presence surprises him, but the moment is fleeting. Within a heartbeat, he curls a hand around the back of my neck, pulling me close to him.

"Please don't look at me like that ever again," he murmurs into my hair, his arms going around my shoulders and holding me against his chest. "Two-hundred and thirty days, Mama."

I clutch at his back, a tear escaping past my defenses.

"I'm okay, Anna," he assures. "I've meant every damn word I've said over the last few months. Every voicemail. Every phone call and text message."

The strength of my own voice surprises me despite its shake. "Even last night?"

My heart clenches when I feel him nod. "I'll always choose to love you more. That is what I want over anything else." He gazes at me with blazing irises. "Loving you kept me where I needed to be, for as long as I needed to be there." His grip migrates to my face. "And loving you is what brought me back to you. Keep me if you want or don't. You have a choice, always. But you're it for me. I've never known anything more."

I swallow against the emotions collecting in my throat.

"I don't expect the trust to be immediate. Not in me, or these demons I carry. But if I could ask anything else, it'd be that you trust how much I fucking love you, Anna. How many demons I'd fight just so I could keep loving you."

My lip wobbles, tears cascading down my cheeks. "I want to." My chest pinches. "I want to trust you, Toby."

"That's good enough for me."

"But I also …" I trail off when his jaw clenches and I know he's thinking the worst. I would be .

"Say what you need, Mama. I'll love you no matter what comes out of those pretty lips."

He's choosing me .

Toby has chosen me.

Just him being here, in this state, with a clear mind and enough conviction in his tone that I think I am starting to believe him.

He went to rehab and stayed .

He came home and kept up with the things he learned while he was away. I know, because Leo wouldn't let me not hear all about when he actually got me on the phone.

The meetings. Therapy. All of it.

Toby chose to come here. To find me.

To love me.

Just like he promised.

Without a word, I pull at his wrist and break away from his hold. I cross the tiny space and grab both dark green bottles by their necks and tear them from the counter.

"Anna …" Toby drawls out, as I step up to the sink and uncork both bottles. Tipping them, I watch as the maroon and white liquid swirls its way down drain, disappearing beneath the faucet's spray, and with it, my guilt.

My reservations.

My mistrust.

"For months," I say to the sink, my fists gripping the edge. "I tried to forget. About the job, the guys … you ."

"Anna, I don't want—" He's close, but not close enough.

I shake my head. "I couldn't forget about the guys, or the job. What I could do for you that was better than whoever took my place. What Leo was doing that I could do better … I tried to let it go ... Let you go." I lift my gaze to the ceiling, the heat of Toby's body burning at my back. "That's why I came all the way out here. To get away from it all. Everything that reminded me of you ."

I drag in a deep breath, one that's filled with sweet tobacco and citrus and warms me straight to my toes.

"Say what you're not saying."

"I'm saying that I'm not running in headfirst with you."

I spin around, and my gaze clashes with his, but he's already grinning and arching his brow.

"Doesn't sound like a no, Mama."

I shake my head to hide my smile, crossing my arms over my chest, and agree. "It's not a no, either."

Toby steps closer, so close that the smattering of hair across his chest teases my elbows. "Okay. I can work with that." He leans in when I drop my defensive stance, the tip of his nose ghosting over mine, his torso boxing me in against the counter. "Either way, you look sexy as fuck in my shirt."