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And very, very stupidly in love with a man I have no business loving.

“Thanks for the ride,” I say, pulling out every trick to sound normal.

Somehow I get out of the car and into the brownstone without Hannah calling me out for not looking even remotely run-down over some lab-grown virus that comes and goes in a matter of days without leaving a single trace.

There’s clearly no one home, the house is still dark, but the Barclay boys are stomping into the house before I’ve even put my backpack away.

“Sunny!” Maddox shouts in glee when he sees me, and runs to me like it’s been months.

It feels like maybe it has been—way too long, or too far away.

Mason is right behind him, and I find myself sitting on the floor and listening to all the cool things they got to do with their nieces and nephews since Wednesday.

It’s easier to focus on them than on Tucker, easier on my heart but not on my mind.

The residue of this morning’s whiplash of emotions is still lingering inside me—thinking he wanted me to go away, then declaring his intentions, is still too much.

So I focus only on the boys until they troop upstairs to get ready for bed, then I go to my room.

And close the door.

July 5th

Call me a horse because the blinders I’ve got on are top-tier.

I begin the working week happily stranded in denial land, since I decided last night, after tossing and turning for hours, that I’m going to enjoy every second I’ve got left with the boys to the fullest, and let the rest of the chips fall where they may.

And okay, maybe I’m jumpy when we walk the few steps out of the house and into the SUV so Johnny can take us to the Museum of Natural History. Maybe I look around us when we’re walking up into the building too.

I try to shake it off and just stay in the present.

The knowledge that there was a man following me for who knows how long isn’t going to go away anytime soon. I never felt like I was being watched while it was happening, so why do I, now that I know it’s not happening anymore?

That’s something I’ll need to ask Dr. Natalie at the end of the week. Making a mental note is about as much as I can do to give myself some peace.

Johnny obviously notices, and though I have no clue if Tucker told the two security guards, I’m more thankful than ever for his presence.

It’s a different story when we’re at home. Here I can breathe easy, and I really do try to only focus on the boys, especially when Tucker comes home from work, but they’re eager to spend time with him, so we end up all sprawled on the floor of their playroom, lining up all their toys so we can “cast” them into a play the boys want to put on.

That one hour sharing the space with him is enough to regulate my body. Even if I hate to feel like I need him so much, I don’t want to put up any more walls for him to climb over. I’m tired of it all.

I wait for him outside the boys’ room later that night, figuring it’s my turn to seek him out, that it’s only fair that I do something for him.

Taking long baths is something I used to love doing a couple of years ago, before that habit was mentally beaten out of me. I’ve only done it once since I first came into this house, and remembering all the effort Tucker put into our date Saturday night, I set up the big tub in my bedroom with candles I find in the guest bedrooms, a little speaker playing my favorite instrumentals, and the overhead lights turned off.

I take his hand silently when he closes the door to the boys’ room behind him, then pull him to the stairs, to my room, and into the bathroom.

“Sunny,” he whispers. His delighted surprise makes me feel like I just won something rare and precious, something I won’t get anywhere else.

And that’s the issue of it all, isn’t it?

But I don’t think about it as I undress him and guide him into the tub, or as I slide in behind him and start massaging his shoulders.

His last few days have been as intense as mine, and he took such good care of me after my interview, while I was practically having a mental breakdown in Eli’s bat cave. I want to take care of him too. I want to feel like I can.

He gives me enough space when we get out to make it clear he’s still giving me every chance to escape, to ask him to go to his own room tonight. But the reminder of how unrelentingly patient he is only makes me want to escape with him.

And not only because I did miss him next to me in bed last night, but because I’m tired of fighting this force that’s pulling us together.