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“I need to apologize. I’m so sorry I reacted the way I did. It wasn’t about you so much as what Dylan said and?—”

“It was absolutely about him.” I cut her off and slowly hold out my hand, waiting for her to take it. “I understand that now, princess.”

Instead of taking my hand, she throws herself against my chest.

“I’m sorry, Hudson. Truly sorry. I didn’t mean to hurt your feelings.”

My arms close around her, and I inhale the scent of her hair, pressing soft kisses on her temple. She feels so damn good. “Shh. You don’t have to apologize. I’m the one who’s sorry. I was mad at him, but I took it out on you. That was wrong.”

“It’s okay. I guess we both freaked out a little.” She rests her head against my chest, and everything falls into place. This is how it’s supposed to be.

We’re quiet for a minute or so before she whispers, “I missed you all day.”

“I missed you too.”

And I did.

Normally, when I’m at work, I don’t think about anyone or anything else—but today, Willow was basically all I thought about.

Suddenly she whirls. “Shit! The garlic bread.” She grabs a pot holder and throws open the oven, pulling out a tray of cheese-covered bread. It’s a little brown but still makes my mouth water.

“That looks awesome,” I say, leaning over with interest.

“Briar told me veal parmesan was your favorite.” She lifts a platter out of the lower oven, since the garlic bread was in the upper.

“God, that looks amazing. Let me wash my hands and we can eat.”

“Perfect. I set the table in the dining room…I thought we’d be a little fancy tonight.”

“Sounds great.” I move to the sink and have just put my hands under the water when I hear her gasp.

“Where’s your boot?!”

I chuckle. “That’s one of the reasons I had to leave in such a hurry—I was late for my appointment to find out if I can stop wearing it and didn’t want to miss it. I’ll need some PT for the ankle, but Doc says I’m good to go.”

“That’s wonderful.” She smiles, and it lights up the fucking room.

I am so gone for this woman.

Watching her in my kitchen putting the garlic bread in a bread basket, wearing jeans and a T-shirt with bare feet, just pounds home the fact that she’s where she belongs—with me.

Dinner is amazing, and I can’t help but shake my head.

“I thought you didn’t know how to cook.”

Pink cheeks. “Briar dished on the recipe…and some YouTube videos I could follow step-by-step.”

I grin. For a rich, spoiled Hollywood starlet, she’s full of surprises. Of course, I now know her public persona is nothing like the woman she really is. That other person is who Dylan Durand wants everyone to think she is, but I know better.

I know more about her after six weeks than the rest of the world knows despite watching her since she was a child. It’s a little heady to have this kind of intimacy with one of the most famous women in Hollywood, but it also feels comfortable. Like we’ve been together a lot longer than we have.

I’ve never experienced this with another woman.

Never imagined it could feel like this to be with someone special.

“I did some redecorating while you were gone,” she says as we eat.

“Oh?” I arch a brow. I don’t care if she painted the whole house purple, as long as she’s happy.