Page 34 of Baby, It’s Hotter Inside

“Yes, but they’re sworn to secrecy,” I say.

“Can I tell you more things?” he asks.

“You can tell me whatever you want. I’m always here if you need me, Kris.” And I mean that even knowing that he doesn’t care about me the way I care about him. He means too much to me for me to abandon him.

“I don’t have a job which means I have no real way to support you or a child.”

I want to interrupt and tell him I don’t need that from him nor was I asking, but his face looks so determined and he clearly has more to say.

“I’m currently living with my parents. I see a therapist once a week. I’m broken in ways that no one can see on the outside and you think I’m this perfect hero and God, Annie, I want to be a hero to you.” His hand forks through his hair making it stand up on end in a haphazard way. “But I know all I’ll do is disappoint you.”

“I don’t think you’re perfect.”

“But what about those guys?” He motions to the direction where Matt left.

“First of all, Matt is married. To a guy named Steve. Secondly, I don’t sleep with the guys I photograph, nor do I hero worship them. They’re just guys.”

He shakes his head. “No, I meant like the guys in the books. That’s what you’re looking for, right?”

My heart is pounding and my stomach is doing the twist, but I’ve got to make it through this conversation. “The heroes in romance novels aren’t perfect men. There’s nothing perfect about those relationships. That’s actually the beauty of them. They’re about imperfect people finding love and making sacrifices to be together.”

“Do you think you’d want to be with a man like that?” He steps closer so that he’s directly in front of me again. “A man with problems like mine?”

“A man like you? Or you? What are you asking me, Kris? Because I have to be honest, I know your issues seem big to you. Because they’re yours and they’ve changed the trajectory of your life and I don’t want to negate any of that. But the truth is that lots of people have mental and emotional issues. Lots of people go to therapy. I, as evidenced by my ass, self-medicate with ice cream.”

“I like your ass.”

“Thank you. My point is that I’m not some starry eyed teenager looking for a caricature of a real man. I’m not looking for a facsimile of a hero from a romance novel. I want what Ginger and Brock have. I want that forever kind of love. None of that ever comes with perfection. I mean, I know I am far from perfect myself so I’d never expect that from anyone else.”

“I don’t know, Annie, I think you’re pretty damn perfect.” He pulls his phone out of his pocket and taps the screen a few times and music starts to play. He holds his arms out to me. “Dance with me?”

“Here? Now?”

“Yeah.”

I go into his arms and he holds me tight to him while he sways me to the music. The words in the song start and immediately I’m flooded with memories. The balloons on the floor, the streamers hanging from everywhere. Bad punch. The smell of too much hairspray and cologne all mixed together. “We danced to this at my prom.”

“We did.”

My eyes drift over to the picnic table where I’ve set the flower bouquet. That’s where I’ve seen that specific collection of flowers before. “That’s the same as my corsage from that night.”

“Yes.” I bite down on my lip for a moment, then ask, “Could you tell that night how much I wanted to kiss you?”

His Caribbean blue eyes settle on mine. “Yeah. Could you tell how much I wanted the same?”

“You wanted to kiss me?”

“That night and so many others,” he says.

I’m beginning to wonder if my heart can actually pound out of my chest. Surely that would be bad for the baby. “Then why didn’t you?”

“You were seventeen.”

“Two months away from eighteen,” I say.

“But I was already in the marines. I couldn’t start something with you and then leave.” He stops our dancing and cups my face again. “And I kept thinking that my feelings would fade because who meets their soulmate when they’re teenagers?”

“Soulmate?”