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When he’s asleep, I stand in my bedroom staring at the wall that separates our houses like it’s responsible for this entire mess.

Just get it done, asshole.

I change into a clean black shirt, check on Theo one more time, then head next door before I can talk myself out of it.

21

CARMEN

I’m nervous again. I take my time getting ready. I shower, exfoliate, shave everything, and moisturize like my life depends on it. Then I open the bottom drawer of my dresser and dig through things I haven’t worn in years.

My fingers catch on a blue lace set. For a moment, I just stare at it.

I bought it years ago on a pathetic, hopeful whim, back when I still thought I could make my husband look at me differently. Back when I believed desire was something I could earn if I chose the right color, the right shape, the right version of myself.

I had stood in front of Maverick wearing it, all done up, stomach fluttering with that awful, hopeful kind of bravery. For one brief, foolish second, I had felt beautiful.

Then Maverick looked up from his phone, glanced over me like I was an interruption, grunted something I can’t even remember, and rolled onto his side.

I can still feel the heat of that humiliation—the slow, crawling shame of standing there half-naked in something I had chosen for him, realizing I had dressed myself up like a gift for a man who didn’t even want to unwrap me.

My fingers tighten around the blue lace for a long moment, then I let it go.

This isn’t Maverick. This is Levi—the man who has wanted me in old clothes with my hair a mess, who got so shy he couldn’t look at me when I answered the door in a towel, who laughed in my kitchen earlier like he’d forgotten to guard himself for once. God help me, I loved that. He looks so different when he smiles.

Maybe that’s what makes me nervous—how much I really want him.

I push the blue lace back into the drawer and pull on my robe with nothing underneath. Just me.

Two firm knocks sound at the door, making me jump.

He’s here.

Levi stands on my porch in a black T-shirt and jeans, looking every bit as unsettled as I feel. He smells faintly of soap, mint, and that warm, woody cologne.

The sight of him looking nervous loosens something in me. If he’s anxious, maybe I’m not completely out of my depth.

“Hi,” I say.

“Hey.”

I let him inside.

For a long moment, neither of us speaks. Levi stands in the middle of my living room like he doesn’t quite know what to do with his body. His eyes drift over me, then dart away again, as if looking too long might be dangerous.

I open my mouth to ask if he wants to sit down, but the words never make it out. Instead, I close the distance between us, rise onto my toes, and kiss him.

Levi’s good arm bands around my waist and pulls me against him. The kiss turns deep and hungry in an instant. He tastes like too much mint, and my chest softens at the thought of him chewing mints on the way over.

When we finally break apart, we’re both breathing hard. He pulls back just enough to look at me. His eyes are dark, pupils blown wide, but there’s still a flicker of uncertainty there.

It does something terrible and wonderful to my heart.

Then, without a word, he bends his knees and hooks his arm around my thighs. In one smooth motion, he lifts me off the ground. A surprised laugh bursts out of me as the world tilts and I’m suddenly over his shoulder, hair falling across my face and cool air brushing over my bare skin.

“Levi!” I squeal, half laughing, half breathless.

He doesn’t answer. He just carries me down the hall toward the bedroom like I weigh nothing at all.