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I text my mom when I get home.

Me: Appointment went well! Baby is doing fine. I’m going out for the night and won’t be back until morning. Love you!

I decide not to fill her in on all the details. Obviously she knows I’ve had sex given the fact that I’m pregnant, but I don’t need to warn her of my night’s activities. Besides, when she sees Tristan’s truck missing from the front of his house and my SUV still parked in the driveway, I’m pretty sure she’ll put two and two together.

Whatever happens tonight, when I get back home tomorrow, I feel like Tristan and I will have defined whatever it is we have. We haven’t needed to up to this point. I’ve been too busy pushing him away.

But now that his divorce is finalized, it’s a totally different ballgame.

I pack an overnight bag, skipping the lingerie considering A, I don’t own any, and B, my pregnant ass wouldn’t fit into it even if I did, and just as I’m finishing up, I hear the familiar sound of stones hitting the wooden frame surrounding my window.

Good thing that kid always had decent aim.

I open my window, and my cheeks are flushed as I look ahead to our evening.

“You ready?” he asks.

I nod and offer a smile as a dart of nervousness sweeps through me.

He grins, and it only serves to increase those nerves.

God, he’s hot. Was he always this hot? Because he is now, and I’m not sure we’re playing in the same league—pregnant or not.

“Meet me out front,” he says.

A chill runs up my spine at the way he demands it, and I can’t help but think how I want him to demand other things of me, too.

He’s sweet and kind, and he’ll help anybody who needs help. But one thing I remember about our time together? He’s not afraid to demand what he wants, and he’s not afraid to simply ask for it, either. I remember that being a huge turn-on when we were together before. We were both inexperienced, learning together, and when he took the lead and told me what to do, or encouraged me by telling me what he liked, or told me to lie still because he wanted to try something…it was hot.

Like super hot.

While Cam demanded things and rode the line of being an arrogant asshole, I’d never mistake Tristan’s confidence for arrogance.

And there was something different about Tristan that made what we shared so special, too—that made him the best sex of my life.

It was the very simple concept of love.

I’ve never loved anyone as hard as I loved him, and because of those deep feelings we shared, the sex was intimate and emotional every time—whether we were taking our time and exploring each other or if we had to be quick because our parents were only going to be out of the house for a short time.

As I sling my overnight bag on my shoulder and walk out of my bedroom to meet him out front, I can’t help but pause. I turn and look at the bed as I think about the night we gave each other our virginity.

We didn’t lose it to each other. It was something we shared, something we gave one another, something we both swore we wouldn’t give anyone else until life happened and we did.

He’d been sneaking into my window for months so we could make out after Homecoming our sophomore year. Making out eventually shifted to over the shirt and over the pants touching, and eventually that shifted to moving under clothes and using hands and fingers, which transitioned to mouths exploring each other.

It was a year after we first officially got together. Homecoming night junior year. We’d danced after celebrating the football team’s victory, and I was nervous the entire day. We ducked out early to head to my house.

We’d planned it. He asked me to the football field, of course, one day after practice. I had cheer, and I stayed late as he finished up on the field. He met me in the bleachers after practice, and we sat and talked as everyone else cleared the field.

“Can I ask you a question?” he asked me, and I nodded. “Have you thought about…you know. Sex? With me?”

“I think about it all the time,” I breathed. I knew how he made me feel when we did those other things, and I knew sex with him was the next logical step. We’d talked about it before, but we’d skated around it. I was young at just sixteen, and I knew my parents wouldn’t approve, but I wanted this. I wanted him. I wanted to be as close as two people could physically be, and I didn’t care what anybody else thought.

I wanted to seal the love I felt for him by showing him how I felt with my body.

All our friends teased us relentlessly anyway. They assumed we were already doing it, not that either of us cared about their opinions. But the more they teased us, the more I wanted it.

There was no pressure in his question, and it was one of the things that made me feel even more ready to do it with him. He respected me, and I knew it would be special if it was with him.

“Homecoming night?” he asked. It was only a couple weeks away, and I would think of nothing else until the time came. “It’s Bingo night. If we leave the dance a little early, we can go to my house or yours. Our parents won’t be home.”

“My house,” I said immediately. I wanted those memories in my bed. On my sheets. I wanted to smell him long after he left.

He nodded, and then he leaned over and kissed my cheek.

And when the time finally came, it was perfect.

He took his time. He was gentle even though there were moments I could tell he didn’t want to be. He made sure we were both enjoying it.

As time went on, we experimented. We tried different things. Harder, softer, faster, slower, gentler, rougher.

The how didn’t matter. Every time was special because it was between the two of us, and as nervous as I am for tonight, I already know that in my heart.

This has been a long time coming—all of it. The date. The time we’re going to have together. The night and everything that goes with it.

I’m ready.

And with that thought in mind, I practically run down the hall and out the front door toward Tristan’s truck.