Page 21 of MOM

I take the armchair closest to him. "Until what?"

He studies the grain of the oak coffee table, takes in my bookcase, filled with more trinkets from my travels than books, then the rug, then, finally, me. "Until I'm completely honest with you. I—I come with a lot of baggage."

Keeping my eyes locked on his, I lean back into the chair. I wondered when this would come up. When Decker came on as my PR savior, I knew the surname Carlson rang a bell, I just didn't remember why. So I did some research online, and there it all was, his pro-footballer father's numerous cheating scandals and his mother's suicide, playing out in front of the entire world like some sick real-life soap opera.

"I assume you know about me? About my family?" he hedges.

"I do."

"I think the reason I've never been in a serious relationship with anyone is because of what happened."

"With your dad?"

"Yeah. Him marrying my mom's sister may have made for great tabloid fodder, but it destroyed so many lives."

"I'm sorry about your mom."

Tears fill his eyes. "Thank you," he replies so softly I barely hear him.

I get off the armchair and move onto the couch, not as close to him as I want to be, but within touching distance if he decides to reach out. "You can talk to me if you want to. I'm here. Let it out."

Tears fall, and he nods. "It messed me up so badly," he admits. "I was only six, and I didn't understand why we had to move, why helicopters kept flying over our new house, why strange men were always at our front gate, why Mom was so sad all the time."

His crying overwhelms his words, and I can't keep away from him any longer. I shuffle closer and tap the tops of my thighs.

He hesitates for a second but then climbs on. I cradle him in my arms and hold him close.

"I can't even begin to imagine what a nightmare that was."

"It was worse after Mom died. She found out about Dad's affair with her sister. That's what pushed her over the edge, why she killed herself. And then my sisters and I had to move in with Dad and the woman who hurt Mom so badly. I hated them both so much. I locked myself in my room and just read and read and read."

I relate to that part. My bedroom was my safe space, and crocheting was my escape, a way to drown out the horrible things people said and did to me at school.

I caress his back with long, steady strokes. "What about your sisters?"

"They were having a hard time, too, but they're a few years older than me. I was so lucky to have them. Only they knew what I was going through. Every boy should have older sisters," hesays, a brave smile poking through his tears. "They may give you hell, but there's no one more fiercely loyal and protective than an older sister. And I've been blessed with two."

"I'm glad you had them. I had Mallory, and I know for a fact I wouldn't be where I am today if it weren't for her."

Decker wipes his tears away. "I'm glad you had her, too."

It feels like we've crossed a threshold and stepped into a new reality. If Decker's saying he never had a relationship because he's never trusted anyone enough to let them in this close, now that he's opened up to me, what does this mean for us? Do we have a future?

If I can use my words in the bedroom, I sure as hell am going to use them now.

"So what does this mean?" I ask, brushing my fingers along his jaw.

"It means…" He huffs out a breath, averting his gaze. After a few moments, he turns back and says, "It means the reason everyone is eating up what we're serving is because we have something real. I like you."

I smile, gently nudging his chin back to meet my gaze. "I like you, too."

"I never planned this."

"Me, either. Believe me," I say, casting my mind back to the reason that brought us into each other's orbits in the first place.

"But I'd like to see where this goes. For real."

"You have no idea how long I've waited for you to say that."