Page 52 of A Love That Saved Us

Fuck, I’ll take it. That laugh? I’ve missed that laugh.

“And yet…” I nudge her foot under the table. “You knew exactly what you were doing with that spoon.”

“No!” She points the spoon at me, eyes wide. “I didn’t realize I was doing that. I swear. I’m just really hungry.”

“Sure,” I murmur, “let’s go with that.”

She rolls her eyes, but that dimple’s still there. And for a second, it feels like old times. Catches me right in the goddamn heart.

I steady my breath—her closeness, her laughter—it feels so fucking good.

Not to mention, I’m painfully turned on. It’s been more than six months since I’ve had sex. The longest I’ve gone since I lost my virginity, and I can’t stop picturing my wife’s beautiful lips around my cock.

But it’s not even about that.

I just want to take her out to a real dinner. Go for a walk. Cuddle during a movie. I want to stay up all night talking to her. I miss her.

I want to hang out with my best friend.

I let myself stare, taking her in, soaking up every second.

God, it feels like I’m standing on the edge of everything. I’mthis fucking closeto getting it all back… or losing it for good.

Chapter Fifteen

ALLEY

What the hellam I doing?

He makes one joke about the way I was eating my potatoes, and suddenly I’m smiling like it didn’t take everything in me to walk away from him five months ago. Like he didn’t make our lives a living hell for two straight years. And let’s not even talk about the fact that my dad’s in a hospital bed fighting for his life.

I’m in a cafeteria flirting with my soon-to-be ex-husband like I’m on a dinner shift at work.

That is so messed up.

But it’s also the best feeling in the world.

To be laughing with Jensen.

To feel his gaze on me.

To be turning him on.

I’d take this moment over silence any day. Over grief. Over the ache of pretending I don’t care.

My heart squeezes tight in my chest. I didn’t realize how much Ineededthis.Shit. Does that mean I need him?I can’t let myself go there. I’m finally—finally—in a place where I can see the light again. Jensen walks back into my life for five minutes and flips the damn switch, like nothing ever happened.

The light’s so bright, it’s blinding me. Fooling me.

Icannotbe this easy.

That is absolutely pathetic.

“Do you remember our ice cream fight?” Jensen asks, smirking.

That smirk—I’ve seen it hundreds of times, and it’s still just as sexy as the first.

“Of course I remember.” I scoop up another bite of potatoes, this time putting on a show. I close my eyes, wrap my lips around the spoon, and drag it out slow—soft, sinful, completely over the top. I moan, just barely, trying not to laugh.