“I can’t sleep,” I say after I’ve used my full body weight to change sides three times. I’ve been trying to fall asleep for the last hour, but it’s useless.
“I can’t, either,” he murmurs in the dark.
He normally wouldn’t stay in my bed with me all night, but he didn’t want to wake his parents, and with the rain…I told him to just stay.
“Sorry. Is it because I keep moving around?” I ask.
“Not at all. It has more to do with being wired after drinking coffee on my flight back and then the adrenaline rush of the workout you just gave me.” He sits up.
I chuckle as I sit up, too, and I swing my legs over the side of the bed. “Doesn’t sex usually make men sleepy?”
“Not when your heart gets pumping the way you just did to me.”
“Sorry not sorry,” I say. “Want some hot chocolate?”
“More caffeine?” He shrugs. “Great idea.”
We head to the kitchen, and I make us each a cup. We sit across the table from each other, and he blows into his cup in an attempt to cool the liquid.
“Can I ask you a question?” I begin.
He nods.
“What changed?”
His brows dip as he glances up at me. “I realized you were in a tough spot. I hadn’t really put myself in your shoes until I was sitting at dinner with the other wide receivers and the story just came tumbling out. I realized you were doing exactly what I asked you to do. I told you not to bring up the past. I told you it didn’t matter. I told you to focus on the pregnancy.” He lifts a shoulder. “I told the guys how I wasn’t sure how I could ever trust you again after you’d kept such a huge thing from me, and they asked me whether you’d ever done anything else to break my trust. When I really thought it through, the answer was no.”
We’re both quiet as he stares into his cup, and I stare across the table at him. I’m not sure what to say to that.
“I kept coming back to that conversation in my mind, and that was when something shifted. I knew I had to get Savannah out of the picture, so that was my next move,” he says, and his eyes lift to mine. They’re full of something—a strange mix of regret and warmth.
“Out of the picture?” I repeat, and then I lower my voice. “Did you drive her off a cliff?”
He laughs. “I was tempted, believe me. Travis mentioned that, too. But no. Instead, I put on the performance of my life, pretended like I wanted to be with her again, got close to her, got her to confide things in me…and then I sent it all to my lawyer, who worked his magic.”
My brows arch. “Oh my gosh! That’s what that was!”
“What what was?” he asks, clearly confused.
“You texted me an audio file. At first when I listened I thought you were trying to hurt me, to put that final end between us, but then I realized you would never handle things that way. I figured you sent it to me by mistake, and I forwarded it to your lawyer.”
His brows dip. “Wait…what?” he slides his phone out of his pocket and looks at his last text to me. “Why didn’t you say anything?”
I shrug. “I knew you’d get in touch with me when you were ready.” Baby girl kicks, and I set a hand over my stomach. “I knew you’d come back for us.”
“Is she kicking?” he asks.
I nod, and he rushes around the table to set a hand on my stomach. I set my hand over his, and after everything that’s gone down over the last few months, I finally feel at peace.
She quiets down, and Tristan returns to his seat. He looks into his cup again, avoiding my gaze. “So you heard me say that you lied and manipulated, and you still chose to believe the best in me?” His eyes flick up to me at the end of his question, and I nod.
“I will always believe the best in you, Tristan,” I say softly, and I can’t believe how true those words are.
I feel…healed.
I’m still hurt over what my father did. I’m still hurt over the way Cameron treated me.
But with Tristan, I’m whole again. With him, I can handle the hurt because he’s there to help me through it.
He reaches across the table and squeezes my hand. “I’m sorry I didn’t tell you what I was doing with her. I’m sorry I got scared and chose to run from you. I won’t do that again. Ever.”
“You did what you had to. I chose to have faith that it would all work out in the end, and you’re sitting across from me drinking hot chocolate at four-thirty in the morning. I’d say it all worked out.” I take a sip of my drink.
We talk about our time apart, and we talk about our history, and we talk about our time together, and a little after five-thirty, my mom saunters into the room. She freezes and her eyes widen when she spots Tristan sitting at the table across from me, and then her face breaks out into a grin.
“I knew you’d be back,” she says, and she messes up his hair.
He laughs. “I knew I would be, too. Just needed to take care of a few things first.”
“And?” she asks, and I realize then that in our conversation over the last hour, he never told me how things panned out with Savannah.
“My ex-wife was taken into custody last night, and my lawyer will keep me updated on the case,” he says.
I gasp. “She was taken into custody?”
“She’s done stealing records, blackmailing, and bribing,” he says. “I gave everything I had to Richard, and we called the police with our evidence. I guess Richard came into some news at the last hour, because when they arrested her, it was on twenty-three counts of extortion.”
“Extortion?” my mom and I say at the same time.
“I don’t know many details, and I’m not sure I care. She broke the terms of her probation with some pretty serious charges, and I’m thrilled she’s finally going to get what’s coming to her,” he says. “Oh, that reminds me. I need to call Luke later and tell him. He and Jack will be thrilled, too, and I’m sure they’d be happy to testify against her if it comes to that. But my guess is that it won’t.”
“Do you think she’ll plead guilty or not?” my mom asks.
He shrugs. “Knowing her, she’ll do whatever she can to spin it on someone else. But twenty-three counts of extortion seems pretty serious to me. I’m not sure she can spin that one.”
“Well whatever happens, we’re glad to have you back, Tristan,” my mom says, and she squeezes his shoulder warmly.
“I’m glad to be here.”
She grabs a cup of coffee before she disappears to take her shower, and once she leaves for work, we head next door to say hi to his parents.
We ring the bell, and his mom answers. She practically leaps at her son, pulling him into a hug and kissing his cheeks. “I missed you so much. Are you doing okay?”
He nods and holds her tightly for a beat. “I’m doing great. Is Dad around?”
She nods toward the garage. “He’s been working on some projects. He’s been doing a lot better the last couple days. Says he feels about ninety percent himself again, which is a huge improvement.”
We follow her through the house and out to the garage, where we find him standing with a drill, safety glasses covering his eyes. The drill isn’t as loud as the saw at this early hour, and when he sees us, he shuts it off and sets it down.
He pulls his glasses off as his eyes shift between the two of us.
“Welcome home, son,” he says gruffly, and tears heat in my eyes as I watch them hug.