68

I laughed as I headed for the table and slipped beneath the covers, getting lost in a sea of fluff and softness until I felt his hand. The tables were close, and his fingers had searched under the blanket until they found mine.

I glanced across the open space, meeting his grin.

My chest swelled, my throat tightening.

Some of the moments we spent together were so pure that they didn’t need words.

They were raw, honest.

Full of emotion.

Like when he had walked into the pantry while I was presenting the birthday cake to Everly.

When we’d had dinner with his parents the night before we left and he held my hand under the table.

When I’d been on a call with Gabby while we were in Vegas and he took the phone from my hand, promising her he would keep me safe. That nothing would ever happen to me.

Like now.

The knock at the door pulled me out of my thoughts, and I heard Ford say, “Come in.”

“Hello,” one of the massage therapists said.

They closed the door behind them and washed their hands at