We shut the door, and I followed him upstairs, agreeing, yes, we were probably going to have morning sex.
No, definitely.
CHAPTER ELEVEN
BROOKS
I sank into the couch cushions, that familiar leather-like butter. It had taken Amara and me a good month to find this couch and then three more months for it to arrive, and it was like our child. I put my feet up on the coffee table, pulled out my e-reader, and decided I was just going to read for the afternoon. Amara would be home any minute, and then we would sit and maybe put this couch to good use. After all, it was time to have another baby, at least according to Amara. One that wasn’t a couch.
My lips twitched, knowing that we were also looking for a dog, one that would fit our family and would probably destroy the couch.
I pat the leather, holding back a laugh. “So sorry,” I said, trying not to smile as I went back to reading.
The door opened slowly, and I looked up as the love of my life walked into the room, her auburn hair framing her face and the shoulder-length haircut she had just gotten and wasn’t quite sure she liked. I thought she looked beautiful no matter what she wore. Hell, she made me hard just looking at her, but saying that didn’t help her like her haircut. She’d always had flowing long hair and spent much of her fun budget on different products for it. I didn’t mind because when I ran my hands through it, it made her purr.
“Hey there, babe,” I said, and Amara looked at my feet on the table but didn’t say anything. I frowned, setting my booted feet down on the ground, wondering why she hadn’t. I liked our jabs at each other, cute ones that just meant we loved each other.
“What’s wrong?” I asked, setting my book down and up by her side in a flash.
“I… it’s bad, Brooks.”
I swallowed hard, trying to hear what she said, but it was a garbled mess. Then we were standing in a doctor’s office, explaining how stage four meant it had fully metastasized and moved to other organs. There were treatments that we could try, special programs so we could pay for it. And yet, the doctor’s words were just as jumbled. I blinked, and we were sitting in the hospital room, poison being injected into my wife’s port as she finally took off the cold cap, annoyed with it.
“I don’t need to keep my hair. I just need to get this over with.”
I leaned down to kiss her, but then the dream changed, and that sense of fear that had been with me from the moment I had seen her was not able to take root.
Now, we stood in the bathroom as she sobbed into her hands, and I finished shaving off the rest of her hair. I leaned forward, tapped her shoulder, and immediately began to shave off mine.
“Brooks. No.”
“We can grow it back together. Damn it.”
She looked up at me then, but there was no hope there.
But that wasn’t right. She had been the hopeful one. I had been the one who had looked into the abyss and tried to evade my own pain.
We blinked, and we were back on that couch, and she was making me make a promise that I didn’t want to keep.
“You have to, Brooks. Love again. That’s all I’m asking. Rory’s such a good person, don’t you think?”
I blinked, confused as hell.
“What?”
“Your heart is so big, Brooks. You take care of everyone. And now you’re taking care of Rory and those girls. They need you.”
I tried to pull away, but her strength had returned, and she clutched at my wrist.
“I could never hate you, but this isn’t right. This isn’t what you said.”
“I love you, Brooks. And I know you love me. Now, remember your promise. You said you hated me and loved me all at once because I made you promise.”
I swallowed hard and reached out for Amara, but then it was Rory sitting there, her bald head cold without her cap. Her lips were chapped, her eyes sunken. And I screamed.
I shot up in the bed, heart pounding, as Rory reached for me.
“What is it?”
