I didn't. Kept my eyes on his while he moved inside me. While he whispered things that made my chest ache.

"You're so perfect."

"Made for me."

"Mine."

I came crying. Not from pain. From the emotion of it. From how much I felt for him and how terrified I was of losing this.

He followed. Whispering my name like a prayer.

After, he held me. Just held me. And I realized with startling clarity:

I was in love with him.

Not infatuation. Not just lust.

Love.

And I was so completely screwed.

---

**MARCUS**

I woke up Saturday morning with Ava in my bed.

In the bed I shared...