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if she calls, i'll be right there | megumi fushiguro

In the wake of your divorce, you definitely aren't looking for any kind of romantic relationship. Enter Megumi, your kind, quiet, attentive, younger neighbor. He shows you what it feels like to be dated on and loved the way you deserve, and you soon wonder if you'd ever felt love the way you should have before Megumi stepped into your (and your daughters') lives.

Tags/Warnings: Age gap (Megumi in his early 20's, reader in her mid/late 30's); reader has two children and is recently divorced; f! receiving oral sex, unprotected sex, drama with ex husband, angst with a happy ending. 6k(ish?) words. A repost from an abandoned blog. Maybe my favorite fic I've ever written.

You met Megumi on a cold, rainy November afternoon in the parking lot outside your townhouse. You'd just dropped off your kids to their dad for the weekend and stopped to pick up a few groceries on your way home. Weary and stressed from a busy week of work, playing taxi, helping with homework and hairstyles and extra-curricular activities, you were looking forward to a quiet weekend alone to decompress and try to remember yourself.

Your divorce was still fresh, still raw. Your ex husband made it difficult for you to be civil, but you did your best to be polite in front of your children. They seemed to be adjusting to the custody arrangement as well as could be expected, but you found that working full time and being a single parent was far more taxing than you had anticipated. There was little time to connect with friends or to fit in any sort of leisure time. So when weekends rolled around and you had a bit of a break, you often found yourself overwhelmed and lacking direction. Do you catch up on laundry and mow the lawn, or do you meet friends for drinks and indulge in a night of fun? Though you didn't yet consider yourself old, you certainly didn't feel young and desirable these days. Dating wasn't an option just yet, either. You knew that the baggage you carried around was too heavy to ask anyone else to bear, so most weekends, you preferred to tidy up around the house enough so that you wouldn't feel guilty about lazing around, then you'd open a bottle of wine and order takeout and binge a few episodes of your favorite series.

For a few minutes, you sat in the car, hoping the rain would lighten up and the wind would die down just a little. You drummed your fingers on the steering wheel to the beat of the song on the radio, humming quietly, running through your mental list of restaurants that would deliver dinner. The song ended, the rain still came down in sheets, and you sighed. "Here goes nothing," you muttered, putting up the hood of your raincoat and ducking your head under the deluge. You ran to the back of your car and lifted the hatch, only for one of the bags of groceries to topple out onto the asphalt. A glass jar of marinara hit the ground and shattered on impact, and the loaf of sourdough you'd been looking forward to–wrapped in a flimsy paper sack– slipped directly into a puddle.

With a heavy, tearful sigh, you put back into the bag what hadn't hit the ground and hoisted it up on your hip, then grabbed the second bag. You'd have to come back out when the rain stopped to sweep up the glass. As you turned to hurry up to your porch, you heard someone call out to you from a few doors down, footsteps splashing quickly through the puddles.

"Hey! You need help?"

A slender hand reached toward one of the bags at your hip and you reflexively recoiled, turning yourself away. "I got it, thanks," you said, eyeing the stranger warily. He looked a little offended, then hooked his thumb in the direction of your car.

"Looks like you dropped something back there. Sure you don't need me to help?"

Something in the way he looked at you made you soften a little, and the cold, driving rain only furthered your decision that yes, you did need help, so you thrust one of the bags into his arms and dug your keys from your pocket.

"Hold that for just a sec so I can–"

The bottom of the other paper bag in your arm gave out, spilling the rest of your purchases onto the sidewalk; suddenly, you were thankful for the rain, because it hid your frustrated tears.

"Got it," he said quietly, bending to scoop up your goods before they could be further ruined. You quickly unlocked your door and directed him inside.

"Just put it there," you said, motioning to a side table in the front hallway of your home. He did so, carefully, making sure not to drop anything else. The two of you stood on the rug while you shrugged out of your coat with a disgruntled sniffle. "Thanks, uh–"

"Megumi. I, um, live a few doors down." He pushed back the hood of his jacket and ruffled his hair, peering at you through long, dark lashes.

"Oh, Megumi! Yeah, we've met once before!" You told him your name, and he nodded. Said he remembered you, too. You smirked at him, toeing off your shoes and setting them over the vent to dry. "Well thanks for helping me." With a weary sigh, you started gathering up your groceries. "I really appreciate it."

He nodded again, looking a little unsure of himself. "No problem. I should probably go now." He looked out to survey the rain and found that it was beginning to let up just a little. "Unless you need some help putting that away."

"I think I can manage from here, but thank you." You really didn't want to be rude, but the day had already taken its toll, and you really just wanted to take a warm bath and curl up in front of the TV with some comfort food and your favorite blanket. "But if I ever need help again, I know who to call on," you say with a wink.

Megumi ducked his head and lifted his hood so you didn't see the blush that flooded to his cheeks, then shoved his hands into his pockets, using his shoulder to open the door. "Sure, yeah. Anytime." With a short nod, he steps outside. "See ya."

"Bye," you said, watching him go.

You lingered so long in the doorway that the glass began to fog over with your breath.

Life stayed busy, as it tends to do when you're a single parent, and you didn’t see Megumi again for several weeks. In fact, it was nearly Christmas before you ran into him again.

The days turned cold quickly, and when the snow began to fall, your daughters wanted nothing more than to spend time outside playing in it. So you bundled them up, snug and warm, and ventured out into your front yard to teach them the art of building a snowman.

Megumi watched you from his second story window for a little while, and when you struggled to lift the middle portion of your snowman onto the base, he thought maybe he ought to help. It was also an opportunity to talk to you again.

"Use your muscles, mama!" your oldest daughter instructed. "We'll help!"

The three of you tried your best to hoist it off the ground. You giggled so much that your strength left your body entirely, and you all fell to the ground in a giddy fit of laughter and decided to make snow angels instead. Eyes closed against the fluffy flakes of snow that continued to float down from the sky, you didn't notice Megumi walk out onto the lawn and lift the large ball onto the base. He packed in a little more snow to close the seam, then began rolling what would become the head.

"Ok, girls, let's try again," you said, pushing yourself off the ground. Once you were upright, you came face to face with Megumi, his cheeks rosy, breathing out gentle white puffs of air. "Oh!"

This close, you could see the intense green of his eyes, the snowflakes that gathered in his long lashes. He stared back at you for a second, surprised at the close proximity of you. "Hey."

You laughed sheepishly, taking a step back, then brushing the snow from your bottom. "Hi!" you said, a little too loud. "You scared me!"

Megumi bent down to continue rolling the head of the snowman, and your youngest daughter hugged you around the hips, watching him curiously. "Who's that, mama?"

You draped your arm over her shoulders and hugged her close. "That's our neighbor, Megumi. Go on, say hello," you encouraged.

With a tiny, mitten-covered hand, she waved to him. "Hi 'gumi."

"This is gonna be the best snowman ever!" your oldest daughter chimed in, dashing over to help Megumi push the ever-growing ball of snow around.

He offered her a comfortable smile and let her take over for a minute. "I think so, too. You guys are good at this."

The four of you worked together until the assembly was complete. You gathered some stones from a neighboring driveway to add eyes and a mouth, and a carrot from your kitchen made a fine nose. Two sticks gave the snowman arms, and an old, knit hat covered his head.

"He needs a scarf!" your oldest cried, tugging at your jacket. "He looks cold!"

You looked around, trying to remember if you had an extra, old scarf laying around anywhere inside. "I don't think we have one," you said.

Seeing the girls look a little crestfallen, Megumi took it upon himself to unwind the plaid scarf tied around his own neck, and held it out to them "How about this?"

Their squeals of laughter made him smile, and he looked at you as if seeking approval.

"Oh, you don't have to do that," you said.

He shrugged, even as the girls had accepted his offer and were tying the scarf onto its new owner. "I've got another one. I don't mind."

You looked at him, and for a moment, you saw more than just the guy next door. Your heartbeat kicked into a faster rhythm as he held your gaze, and it wasn't until your daughter had cried Mama, mama look! a handful of times that you tore your gaze from him, shaking your head, a little dizzy.

"I see, baby! He's perfect!"

Megumi stood off to the side with his hands in his pockets, watching as you adjusted the snowman’s limbs. And when your youngest whined about being too cold, her little teeth chattering in a sudden gust of wind, you began to herd both girls toward the house. You turned back to Megumi and gave him a gentle smile.

"Um, do you want to come in for hot chocolate?" When his eyes widened and your girls cheered, you added, "We have mini marshmallows."

He chuckled– warm and deep, ducking his chin down into the collar of his coat. "Yeah, that sounds nice."

You made small talk in the kitchen while you sent your girls upstairs to change into their pajamas. The sun was setting, and you didn't plan on going out anywhere else that evening, so you figured it would save a step later to have them go ahead and change.

Megumi offered to help with the hot chocolate, but you wouldn't have it. He sat at your kitchen table, tearing a napkin into neat little squares while you chatted idly about work. You learned that he worked at a call center for a health insurance company. And though you meant no offense, you laughed a little.

He raised a curious brow and blew over the top of his mug before taking a tentative sip. "What's so funny?" He asked.

You shrugged and dropped an ice cube into each of your girls' mugs, then gave them a stir. "You don't seem like an insurance salesman, I guess."

"I don't sell. I just field questions about policies and stuff."

"But you don't, like, get commission or anything when you try and upsell someone?"

He shook his head. "I don't upsell. We're not allowed. I literally just talk to people about their claims and usually end up sending them off to someone else who can handle it."

You leaned against the kitchen counter with your hip, fingers interlaced around your own warm mug of hot chocolate. "Aren't you bored?"

Megumi looked at you for a moment, tilting his head to the side. "I mean, yeah, but the pay is decent."

"I dunno. A smart, good looking guy like you? I bet you could get any job you wanted."

It took you a moment to realize what you said, and how it must have sounded to Megumi. You stuttered a little and called your girls into the kitchen. "Hot chocolate's ready!"

The girls bounced into the room and sat down at the table, instantly dominating the conversation. Truth be told, you didn't mind one bit. The last words you spoke echoed around in your mind and you kept stealing glances at Megumi while your daughters chatted about school and classmates and their favorite cartoon characters. He was good at asking them questions about their interests, staying just interested enough to keep them chattering away while still being able to turn his attention to you now and then, sharing a secret smile with you that spoke volumes.

Once their mugs were empty, you shooed them off to their room to play. Megumi stood and helped you clear away some of the mess, then said he should go, too.

"Thanks for the invite," he said, lingering near the doorway, hands in his pockets, shoulders rounded.

"I hope I didn't make this awkward," you breathed, putting away the last of the spoons. "I didn't mean…" What did you mean?

He lifted a hand and made a dismissive gesture. "Tch. No worries. I didn't take it badly. I know I can do better." He sighed, looking at you meaningfully. "You know what they say– money makes the world go 'round. Or…something." He laughed sheepishly and rubbed the back of his neck, cheeks tinted pink. "I'd better stop before I say something else dumb."

You smiled sympathetically. "Let me walk you to the door."

He slipped on his coat and stepped into his boots that were now warm and dry. "Thanks again for having me."

"Sure, no problem, honestly. The girls really liked you. I haven't heard them talk that much to someone that's not me or their dad in…well, in a really long time."

Megumi's eyes widened considerably, and he took a step back, zipping up his coat. "Dad? Oh. Are you–?"

"Divorced," you blurted out, pointing to the lack of ring on your finger. "Recent. Um, actually. Final! Not tied up in court or anything anymore. Nope, I'm single!" Shut up, shut up!

Poor Megumi had no idea what to say or how to say it. He wanted to say he was glad to know you weren't married, because it would have made him feel terribly guilty for being attracted to you. In fact, he already felt guilty enough for the thoughts he'd been wrestling with, considering the fact that you were at least 5 years older than him (he guessed) if not more. There was no way a beautiful woman like you– with two kids and a rich life of your own– would ever consider getting involved with a younger, directionless guy.

He swallowed. "Me. Uh, me too." He showed you his own, ringless finger, and you felt your cheeks flood with heat. "Uh, goodnight. Thanks again for the hot chocolate."

"Goodnight, Megumi. Don't be a stranger, okay?"

He scratched the back of his neck and smiled at you– shy, unsure. God, you were beautiful. "Okay, yeah. See ya later."

He found little ways to ease into your life after that snowy, December afternoon. He learned your routine, memorizing when you left for work and when you got home, what days the girls stayed with you and which weekends they spent at their dad's. He made sure your sidewalk stayed clear of ice and snow and even woke to scrape the frost from your car once the frigid temperatures of January and early February took hold. He helped you carry in groceries more than once, helped you juggle backpacks and dance bags and even a coffee table you salvaged once from a flea market. He was a good friend to you, one whose company you cherished. You never really considered Megumi someone who would want more than just a casual friendship with you.

The day he found you crying in your car was the day things changed.

It wasn't that you were still in love with your ex husband. What he did to you– the very reason for your divorce– made certain that you'd never be able to look at him with love in your eyes again. And it wasn't that you didn't think he deserved to find happiness with someone in your stead. But when you ran into him on your lunch break and saw his arm around the waist of another woman, your stomach lurched and your vision blurred, and you had to excuse yourself. Your coworkers had murmured quietly as you darted to the restroom and locked yourself inside while your thoughts spiraled.

It wasn't fair. Of course you didn't want him back. Of course, you'd never be able to reconcile and have the relationship you'd once thought would last forever. Till death do you part, right? In sickness and in health? Your vows didn't account for him being a compulsive liar, though. A man who could look you dead in the eyes and tell the most convoluted stories and expect you to believe every word. You did for years, though. Excuses for why your savings gradually disappeared, for being late coming home from work time and time again. For missing dance recitals and holiday dinners. For so many reasons, so many times you lost count. He left you with no choice but to leave.

His happiness (or lack thereof) was no longer your concern. So why did it bother you so much to witness him touch another woman the way he used to touch you? You knew in your heart that their relationship would flounder, just like yours did. You knew he couldn't be faithful or truthful with anyone, including himself. Where was your happiness? Why couldn't you find it within yourself, as so many people promised you would?

A gentle tapping on your window startled you so much that you yelped and jolted, your heart kicking into overdrive. You swiped a hand through the fog on the glass to find Megumi, staring back at you with concern etched into his pretty features. Hurriedly, you wiped your tears away and rolled down the window, faking a tight-lipped smile.

"Don't," he said, fingers closing around the top edge of the window.

You scoffed, then sniffled. "Don't what?"

"Smile. I know you don't mean it."

You tucked your chin into your chest and squeezed your eyes shut; a couple more tears spilled free, and Megumi reached in to catch them on his cold fingertips. "Go inside. It’s cold out here."

Sighing, you killed the engine. Megumi stepped away from your car to allow you room to step out, then walked you to your door, hand hovering just above the small of your back to guide you. You were trembling so much that you couldn't even get the key in the door, and it caused a fresh wave of sadness to wrack your body, so you leaned your forehead into the wood and sobbed. Megumi gingerly took your keys from your hand and did it for you, ushering you gently inside. He took your coat and hung it, bent down to slide your shoes off your feet, set your purse on the table. "Come on," he said, helping you to the couch.

"You don't have to do this," you whispered, watching him as he grabbed the blanket you kept on the back of the couch and draped it over your lap. "You…you should go. I'm not good company right now."

He looked as if you'd slapped him across the face. Standing before you, eyes full of disbelief, of tenderness, he ran his fingers through his hair and looked off to the side. "I've never seen you cry," he murmured. "I just got worried."

"That's really sweet of you," you say, pulling the blanket up to your chin while you tuck your legs under your bottom, curling into the side of your couch. "I just need to be alone right now." Please don't leave me, you wanted to say. You felt incredibly vulnerable, and you knew if he stayed…

"I mean, if you want to talk about it, I'm right here." Something in his voice made him sound a little offended, as if he thought you didn't find him trustworthy. The weeks you'd spend making idle small talk with him didn't add up to much; in that moment, however, you realized you'd shared much more with him than just the little details about your life. "Was it him?"

Your eyes welled with fresh, burning tears, and you sunk your teeth into your bottom lip, nodded, then buried your face in the blanket. "I'm so pathetic."

Megumi sat down beside you then, laying a tentative hand on your knee. You could feel his warmth even through the blanket, and you sucked in a breath, trying to calm yourself. "No, you're not," he implored. "I think you're amazing."

You laughed in spite of yourself, swiping at your runny nose with the sleeve of your sweater. "I don't feel amazing," you argued.

Megumi's hand pressed a little harder on your knee, and he shifted closer, reaching over to touch your chin. You gasped and turned your head at his gentle insistence, meeting his intense stare.

You'd touched him before. Accidental brushes against his shoulder in your kitchen. Bumping into him when you, he, and your daughters all crowded through your front door at once, carrying bags and hanging up coats. A playful nudge when he made you laugh at something silly. This felt new, though. Different in a way you didn't want to admit. Your intense sorrow gave way to something else, something you had been pushing down for weeks now.

“Megumi…”

The next few moments passed in a dreamy blur. You weren’t sure who kissed who first, who took that initial leap, but the next thing you knew, he was leaning into you, pressing your back against the couch. Your hands threaded through his hair and you held him against you while he licked into your mouth– hungry, passionate, all-consuming. For one tender, quiet moment, he pulled back and kissed your tear-stained cheeks, thumbing at the moisture collected in your eyelashes. “So beautiful…” he breathed, soft lips bumping against your own.

You grabbed his wrist and pressed your forehead against his, trying to catch your breath. “We shouldn’t be doing this.”

Down the column of your neck Megumi dropped featherlight kisses and you moaned softly, eyes swung toward the ceiling. He shifted his weight against you, fingers spread around your ear, tilting your chin so his mouth could explore further, down to your collarbone. “Tell me to stop.”

You couldn’t. You should, but the more he kissed you, the more you relaxed into him, the more you kissed him back with the same eagerness he showed you. Soon, his hands were beneath your sweater, thumbs grazing over the satin cups of your bra. You drug your nails up the back of his neck and he moaned so beautifully into your mouth that you felt a surge of arousal between your legs. When he tugged at the hem of your shirt, you leaned back and lifted your arms to allow him to pull it off, then crawled over him, into his lap, kissing him with a hungry intensity that he met in kind. You weren’t surprised to feel the bulge between his legs when you rolled your hips down into him. You wanted to devour and be devoured.

Once his own shirt was off, he took great care in unclasping your bra, lifting it away to reveal your breasts. For one reverent, quiet moment, he cupped them in his warm hands, tracing the outline of your areolas, thumbing over your nipples. You’re sure he’d seen breasts much younger than yours, not deflated from breastfeeding and fluctuations in your weight over the years, but the way he looked at them made you less insecure, more proud of how your body had aged. You wanted to say something, to ask him what he was thinking, but when his tongue laved over your nipple before his lips closed around it, all coherent thought flew out the window along with your sense of self-preservation. “Oh my god–”

“Want you so bad,” he whispered, hands kneading the fat of your thighs to pull you further down into his lap. You linked your arms around his shoulders as your hips found a rhythm, grinding yourself against him, desperate to ease the ache in your gut. You worked your hands between your bodies to unfasten his jeans, taking care to pull down the zipper so it didn’t catch. Megumi pulled away from your kisses to watch, breathing through his open mouth as you freed his cock, smoothing your hand over its heavy, velvety warmth. “Please,” he whimpered.

You smiled, eyes hooded, clouded with lust, and leaned in so your lips touched his ear. “Please, what?”

“Need you,” he said, rutting against your hand, head laid against the back of your couch, fingers toying with the waist of your pants.

“Not here,” you said, pulling him off the couch. He stumbled to his feet and straight into your arms. He couldn’t bear to stop kissing you, to not be able to touch you. Out of the living room and up the stairs to your bedroom, you bumped into walls, you tripped over stairs. You giggled against his neck and he nipped at your shoulders as you discarded your pants in the doorway before crawling backwards onto your bed. Megumi stood before you, skin flushed pink, chest heaving, staring down at you with awe. “Come,” you commanded, letting your legs fall open. You watched as he swallowed, his throat bobbing before he climbed over you. Another kiss, and he trailed warm, soft fingers up the inside of your thigh, then swiped them lightly through your folds. You keened as your back arched off the bed and Megumi shuddered. He was fascinated with you. On one hand, he wanted to take his time, to map out every curve, every freckle and mole, every dip and scar. He wanted to know what every inch of you felt like against his lips, what kinds of sounds you’d make when he kissed your most intimate places. He wanted to know what it felt like to be inside you, to feel your ankles hooked at his waist, to whisper his devotion against your ear while you gripped his hair with a trembling fist and cried out his name.

“Hey, you ok in there?” you asked. He’d been still for a few moments, tracing idle patterns across your belly, the hand between your legs resting comfortably, fingertip just inside. You stroked his hair from where his head laid against your breasts and his ear caught your heartbeat.

“Yeah,” he whispered. “You’re so beautiful.”

You kissed his hair and scratched lightly across his shoulders. “Thank you.”

“I mean it,” he said, a little louder. He hooked his finger inside you a little deeper and found your clit, rubbing small circles against it. Your breath caught and you gripped his hair a little tighter, closing your eyes.

“I know. I know you do, Megumi. You make me feel that way.”

He pressed in further and murmured something about how wet you were, then shifted himself over you, pushing your thighs apart with a strength that surprised you, thumbs pressing hard into your flesh. You moaned in tandem when he finally entered you, meeting in a messy, filthy kiss as you arched off the bed to meet him.

You made slow, sleepy love, moving in the way people who have been together for years do. No rush, no daring positions or fast, hard fucking. Megumi worshiped you, all soft kisses and breathy moans, careful hands and tender affirmations. Your body bloomed in response, and for the first time in forever, you felt alive. Every nerve ending felt warm, blood rushing to your fingertips, your toes, to your head; you were drunk with pleasure and let yourself get swept away in his affection. And when you came, it wasn’t earth shattering. It began as embers in a fire, warm and stirring before it spread outward and consumed you with its overwhelming heat. You felt it everywhere– every beat of your heart only drove it deeper into your veins. You clung to him as you rode out your high and he reached his own, face buried in the space between your neck and shoulder, panting open-mouthed against your skin.

For a long time, you held him, tears sliding across your temples as you lay on your pillow, heart thumping against your chest. Megumi closed his eyes, one arm slung across your abdomen. His opposite hand laced with yours and he squeezed, subtle and quiet, breathing softly against your shoulder with his head tucked beneath your chin.

You weren’t sure when you fell asleep, but you woke several hours later, covered in a knit blanket from your bedroom closet. Blinking slowly, you stretched your arm out across the bed in search of Megumi. Somewhat disappointed (but not surprised) to find only cold, empty space where he had been, you got up, dressed in panties and an oversized t-shirt, and wandered down the stairs.

The clock on the wall told you it was past two in the morning, and the soft glow from the nightlight in the kitchen made you smile. Leaning against the counter was Megumi, nursing a cup of something you assumed was hot chocolate based on his preferences. You turned on the tap to get yourself a glass of water and tucked yourself into his side.

“I thought you went home,” you said.

“I probably should.”

You pressed into him further, sliding your arm around his waist. “You don’t have to.”

He slid a warm hand behind your head and held you against his chest, leaning to kiss your hair. “Good. I didn’t want to.”

From that point forward, you couldn’t keep your hands off each other. You restrained yourself when your daughters were with you, playing it cool and making sure they never saw you kissing or otherwise showing affection. Megumi found ways, though. He’d hook his pinky with yours while you sat on a park bench watching the girls play. He’d corner you in the kitchen to kiss you when they ran outside to get the mail, or rest a hand on your thigh while you watched a movie. It became a habit for him to spend the night in your bed when your daughters went to their father’s for a weekend, and when you weren’t fucking like rabbits on every surface of your house, you’d stay up late with a few bottles of beer and a cozy little fire on your patio, resting comfortably together while you talked and learned about each other. You couldn’t get enough of him, and he worshiped the ground you walked upon. You were in deep. Infatuated. Obsessed with each other. If it was unhealthy, you didn’t care. You felt vibrant, relaxed, beautiful. Ready to conquer the world.

What you had with Megumi wasn’t defined as anything specific. And though you weren’t explicitly together, you also hadn’t dated other men. A well meaning coworker had asked you if you’d tried a dating app, and you politely told her you weren’t ready to put yourself out there just yet. You told Megumi one evening, a few days after it happened, and felt him stiffen at your side. He reached for his beer and took a long drink, then remained sitting forward, elbows on his knees. “Do you wanna date other guys?”

You huffed a short laugh and bumped him with your shoulder. “Do you think I want to date other guys?”

He looked…irritated. “Answer my question.” You watched his jaw clench and felt heat rise to your cheeks.

“I thought– no, nevermind.” You shook your head and poked at the fire with a long stick, not daring to look him in the eye.

“You thought what?” The air was thick around you, even as a cool breeze blew through the trees. You shivered involuntarily, gathering your cardigan tighter around you.

“I mean, aren’t we dating? I guess we never really defined it, but…” You dared a peek at him, how the flames from the fire reflected in his eyes, how he looked at you with such devoted reverence it took your breath away. Quietly, you admitted, “I don’t want anyone else.”

“Neither do I,” he whispered, visibly relaxing.

“I’m…a lot older than you, Megumi.”

“I don’t care about that."

“I don’t want to have any more kids.”

“Doesn’t matter,” he said, a little more tense than before. He squeezed your thigh and scooted closer, ducking in to kiss your forehead. “Still want you.”

“I don’t even know if I want to get married again.”

He kissed your brow. “Don’t care. I’ll wait. And if you decide you don’t want to, I’ll still be here.” He hooked his finger under your chin and turned your face toward his, nudging his nose against yours. “I’ll still be in love with you.”

You breathed a little sigh and averted your eyes. “Megumi…”

“I’m serious. I do love you. And…” he tilted his head trying to meet your eyes again. “I think you love me, too.”

You kissed him. A distraction, a way to buy time before you said the words out loud. The words you’d rolled around on your tongue since the night you first slept together. It terrified you, the possibility of loving someone new, of giving your heart over to someone again. Megumi was nothing like your ex husband, but the hurt he caused made it nearly impossible for you to trust someone not to do it all over again.

But for Megumi, you thought you could try. You wanted to give him that chance, to ease into something beautiful that you’d already been building.

He cupped your face in his hands and gently pulled out of the kiss. “I love you,” he repeated. Expectant. Hopeful.

“I love you, too.”

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