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Tate perks up like a hopeful golden retriever. “I’m listening.”

“It’s your house as much as it is mine, but we need ground rules. Separate beds. No touching—which includes sex, hand-holding, cuddling, and especially kissing.” I raise my chin. “If either of us breaks the rules, the deal is off.”

“No touching…” He rubs the stubble on his jaw. “Can we touch ourselves?”

My cheeks heat as images of Tate stroking his cock fill my vision. I’ve witnessed him fuck his fist countless times.

“What you do in your bedroom is none of my concern.”

Tate smothers his cocky smirk and thrusts his hand toward me.

Turn back. Don’t do it. This is going to end terribly.

Give him the papers.

Behind his confident facade, exhaustion creeps in. He needs to go home. I blame my need to look after him for my next move. My skin hisses as it slides against his callused palm, rough from years of guitar playing.

“Deal.”

I know the moment he releases me, this is a mistake. Between my stubbornness and his enthusiasm, this is a recipe for disaster.

He fights a yawn. The ornery idiot would risk his health for this. I have a feeling he’d risk everything but his career for this.

“Well, if that’s that, we should…get going.” I don’t say home. That house doesn’t feel like a home. It’s a prison of everything wrong with our marriage, entombing the bad memories.

“I’m ready to call it a night too. We can ride together.”

There’s no escaping him now.

The cab home is painful. Tate stares at me the entire ride. I refuse to meet his gaze and keep my eyes locked on the passing fields as we speed home. When I gave my excuses to leave to the girls, they looked concerned. Filling them in on this new development is going to be fun.

Jesus, what had I just agreed to? Dating my husband, apparently. What does that look like? The last time we dated, we were awkward teenagers who spent their free time at the local park or lying in the back of Tate’s pickup stargazing. I was a married college freshman. When my friends were out picking up frat boys, I was snuggled up with my husband at home.

Like I’ve done every night since he arrived, I go to scurry up the stairs to hide. But when the front door closes, I make the mistake of looking over my shoulder, my gaze clashing with Tate’s.

“I’m serious, Talia. This isn’t over.”

I’m halfway up the stairs, plenty of distance between us, and yet his words feel like hot kisses along my skin, burning my skin with his promise. With everything in me, I wish that were true, but I’m a logical person, and the facts do not weigh in our favor.

“Will you listen to me if I ask you to sleep in a real bed tonight?”

“Unless you’re in it next to me, no.” He tucks his hands into his jeans. “Go to bed, Talia. I’ll see you in the morning.”

I don’t sleep a wink.

SIXTEEN

TALIA

My ringtone wakes me before my alarm.

Harriet.

It’s not even five a.m.

I reacted poorly last night. I handled the separation badly when it came to my friends, forcing them to pretend nothing was wrong. Harriet was only speaking her truth. Groaning, I slap at the screen.

“Hey, I’m glad you called.” I rub the sleep from my eyes. “Maybe not this early, but I wanted to apologize.”