As herhusband.
“You good?” Linc slowly held up both hands, eyeing her like she might be a wild animal in a trap. Which maybe wasn’t too far from the truth, given the current state of her bed-head and spastic movements.
“I just really wanted cheesecake.” Zoey slid down the length of the island to the floor, resting her back against the cabinet. Her head throbbed, and she had an incredibly uncanny urge to laugh. Cry.
Maybe scream, really, really loud.
Was that what happened when someone stuffed their emotions for too long? They all threatened to burst free at once?
Silently, Linc opened a drawer and grabbed a fresh fork. Then he sat down next to her, shoulder to shoulder, and handed it to her along with the cheesecake plate.
“Bless you.” Zoey pressed the fork into the cake and took a bite. The cold, creamy texture mixed with strawberries soothed her nerves. Cade knew what he was doing with the stress eating, that was for sure.
“Bad night?” Linc plucked the fork from her hands, speared off a piece of cake, and popped it in his mouth before handing the fork back.
“Wasn’t.”
“Until you ran into me, you mean?” His lips curved upward.
More like until that tsunami of emotions tried to take her down. But it was before that, wasn’t it? After all, she’d come to get carbs for a reason. Zoey stabbed her fork back into the slice, choosing to dissect the cake instead of her motivations. “Until you tried to steal my leftovers.”
Linc smirked. “Thought marriage meant what’s yours is mine.”
“So I get a teenager, and you get my dessert. I see how it is.”
He reclaimed the fork. “Guess we both get both.”
“That works too.”
They sat silently, the warmth of Linc’s shoulder pressing into her robe-covered one comforting now instead of alarming. Funny how everything felt less chaotic in her head when she was near him.
Or maybe that was just because now she couldn’t see his abs.
Speaking of—she couldn’t help it any longer.
“What’s this?” Zoey twisted toward him, touched the marred spot on his side. His skin was warm beneath her finger, despite the AC running in the kitchen, and his stomach shuddered at the contact.
She quickly pulled her hand away, clutching the cake plate again. Her fingers must have been cold. It’s not like she had any effect on Linc—not likethat. In fact, if he knew the way she’d checked him out in the fridge light, he’d tease her mercilessly. She schooled her features to casual, waited for his answer.
But he didn’t answer, didn’t even move—just remained silent and stoic next to her. She looked down at the crumbly remains of dessert, regret sneaking into her heart. Ugh, why had she asked? Just because they were married didn’t mean Linc was obligated to explain every little?—
“I had a tattoo removed years ago.”
Oh. She looked back at it now with fresh eyes, resisting the urge to trace the mottled outline with her finger. Now she could see the faint remains of ink, not scar tissue like she’d always assumed. “I can’t make out what it used to be.”
“That’s the point.”
“Well, what was it?”
Once again, he didn’t answer, so she turned her head to look at him, their faces inches apart. Her breath caught—so much for casual. Up close, the dark stubble staining his jaw begged to be touched, the furrow between his thick eyebrows smoothed. She gripped the plate tighter before she did something really dumb, like act on either of those impulses.
And risk breaking this fragile thing they’d created.
His eyes roamed her face. “Why do you want to know?”
She lifted her chin. Oops, bad idea, that just brought their faces closer. She inched away, tucked her hair behind her ear. “Why don’t you want to tell me?”
“That’s not an answer.”
