Page 90 of Hold Me Tight

Maybe.

But it’s the absolute truth. The words slip out so naturally it feels less like a line and more like the tide rolling in.

Her gaze snaps up, startled for half a second, before she rolls her eyes, the faintest smile tugging at her lips. “Does that line usually work for you?”

I shake my head, leaning forward slightly. “Honestly? I can’t remember the last time I used a line on a woman. Or even wanted to. It’s been years.”

That earns me a laugh. It’s the kind that’s warm and unguarded, the kind that feels like it’s wrapping itself around my heart and giving a slow, deliberate squeeze.

She has no idea how much power she holds over me.

If she asked, I’d give her anything.

The fucking world.

Hell, she could have me on my knees without even trying.

We order pasta and share a bottle of wine. She tells me about riding the train with her mom on Saturdays because parking downtown cost too much. How they’d pack peanut butter sandwiches in foil and eat them on a bench outside the Field Museum before going in with the free day passes her mom was able to snag. She talks about standing on tiptoe at the Shedd Aquarium’s big tank, wishing she could stay all day, and how her dad would skate with her at Millennium Park every winter. I tell her about what it was like growing up with Willow. How we were basically a two-kid wrecking crew. If one of us got an idea, the other was already halfway to making it happen.

Somewhere between the breadsticks and dessert, we stop feeling like two people circling around the idea of each other and start feeling like something more.

Something solid.

Something that has the potential to last.

Callie leans in, resting her elbows on the table. There’s a beat of hesitation before she pushes past it. “Can I ask you something?”

I nod. “Anything.”

“Why haven’t you ever settled down?”

The question catches me off guard, but not in a bad way. It’s the kind of question that means she wants to know more about me.

I glance out at the city lights before looking back at her. “I don’t know,” I say honestly. “Maybe I never met someone who felt like home.”

She blinks. “Is that what I feel like to you?”

“You do. I can’t explain it. It was like… the second I saw you in that club, in that pretty little dress that hugged your curves, I was done for. It was game over.”

Her eyes widen slightly.

“And then Zane introduced you as his girlfriend,” I say. “That was the first time I ever wanted something that belonged to him.”

“River…”

I lift a shoulder. “It’s true. I’ve never wanted anyone so badly. I thought it would pass, but it never did.”

She lowers her gaze to her plate. “I’m sorry for the way I’ve treated you. I was angry. Lost. Coming from a place of pain. And you didn’t deserve it.”

I reach across the table and slide my fingers between hers before giving them a squeeze. “You don’t have anything to apologize for. You were protecting yourself and your daughter. That’s never something to be sorry about.”

When her eyes find mine again, emotion flickers behind them. “Thank you for not giving up on me.”

I grin. “Oh, sweetheart. That was never going to happen.”

She doesn’t respond.

At least not with words.