But neither of those things happened. Ethan and I were always just waiting on the precipice of something terrible—wondering when it would break. It never did—and I guess I’m thankful for that. Instead, their marriage fizzled out in an anticlimactic way that led me to believe that maybe what they had was just normal. They divorced after Ethan and I left home and then acted as if all the hell they put us through never happened. Like I never became a man who avoids real relationships at all costs because all I’ve ever known are painful ones. A man who in no way trusts himself with a woman as good and hopeful and lovely as Annie.
Until I met her and held her in my arms, I never knew I could be capable of so much tenderness. And I’m not talking about sex. I’m talking about tender conversations. Tender words. Tender understanding. Even the way she breathes against my neck while she sleeps is tender—and I want it. All of it. I’m just not sure it’s sustainable or that I want to find out if it’s not. Ever since I realized I could climb that magnolia tree in my backyard, I’ve been very good at protecting myself and avoiding anything that could cause me more pain.
The woman I’m holding has the potential to cause me more pain than anyone else ever has. And I sure as hell can do the same to her. I have no idea where to go from here.
For now, I need to get moving. The sun is still soft and warm, just beginning to rise, which means it’s around my usual early morning wake-up time. If I hurry, I can still get out of here without anyone noticing. Maybe even before Annie notices.
But when I look down, trying to assess the best way to extricate myself, instead of moving away, I watch my fingers curl tighter around her side. I notice everything about Annie that I shouldn’t. Like how her eyelashes curl on the ends and are blonde at the base. How she has lots of small freckles across the bridge of her nose. And I notice the way she curves into me perfectly. I honestly didn’t take Annie for a snuggler. “I always keep my hands to myself… But with you…” Those words echo loudly in my head.
She’s draped fully over me, weighing me down in the most incredibly affectionate way. I keep my fingers light against her side even though I want to curl them into the adorable banana-printed fabric of her PJs and then proceed to peel them off one by one. I want to roll her over and wake her up with kisses down her neck and over her stomach. I want to kiss her and not stop.
Time to get up, Will. Get out! And get far away until I can think clearly again. And I absolutely cannot be the one to take her virginity. Not only because it would complicate things with Amelia and my job with her, but I’ll for sure be out of here by the end of the month （as soon as I get Amelia to agree） and then I’ll be off to Washington, D.C. It’s going to be high-stress, high-stakes, and fast-paced work. My favorite. No time for roots or relationships.
Carefully, I slide out from under Annie and simultaneously pull the pillow into the place where my shoulder was holding her head up. She doesn’t move or stir. As much as she’d hate to hear it, she looks like a sleeping angel with her soft pink lips relaxed into a pout and her eyelashes curling against her cheekbone. Her hair is half in, half out of the bun she was wearing last night, and somehow it makes the whole sight look even more attractive.
I stand up from the bed, slowly working my shoulders in a few circles to ease some of the tightness. The sun is higher now, and it spurs me to get out the window and back to my SUV down the street before anyone notices it. When I make it to the window, I lift the pane as quietly as possible, happy it doesn’t squeak or scrape. I drop my leg over the side just like the way I entered and pause only long enough to look at Annie one more time.
My breath catches when I realize she’s facing me now, eyes open, smiling softly. She doesn’t say anything, and neither do I. Her blue eyes sparkle in the morning sun, and the most domestic images rush through my head: of her pouring a bowl of cereal, me topping it off with milk, and then her sitting in my lap while we eat together at the table—because I’m a clingy son of a bitch like that. That is all wrong. That’s not the sort of fantasy I should be having about her. It should be all sexual. All primal and fleeting. Instead, I’m rubbing my chest and telling myself to get the hell out of here before I accidentally ask her to have coffee with me on the porch while the sun comes up.
I give Annie one last smile and then duck out through her window and close it behind me.
* * *
—
I can’t go back to my room yet until I’m certain Mabel is gone. She’ll be hovering around the front desk this morning waiting to catch Terry lazily throwing the newspaper on the lawn instead of onto the front stoop. So I make a detour to the diner for some coffee before I go back, biding my time until Mabel leaves for her nine o’clock exercise walk around the town.