The morning after Andrea’s confession felt like stepping into a new world.

She woke up in Henry’s arms, the sunlight spilling across the massive bed in the master suite. She didn’t retreat to the guest room immediately. Henry’s chest rose and fell steadily beneath her cheek, one of his arms wrapped possessively around her waist. When she shifted, he stirred, pressing a slow, sleepy kiss to the top of her head.

“Good Morning,” he murmured, voice grovel-rough with sleep.

Andrea smiled against his skin. “Morning.”

They didn’t rush. They lingered in bed for a while, trading soft kisses and quiet words, the kind of easy intimacy that felt brand new...