She opens her mouth and closes it. Goose bumps prickle on her arms as she shivers. I lead her out of the shower and wrap her in a towel.

“I’m sorry,” she says. “I didn’t even think…”

Oh, damn. “You’re sorry? Angel, you didn’t do anything wrong. I should have…” Then it hits me. “You’re not on birth control.”

She shakes her head, and I pull her against my chest and squeeze my eyes shut, cursing myself over and over in my mind. I want Hanna. I want to find a way to make it work with her. But another kid? That’s leaps and bounds beyond what I’m ready for. Fuck it. I can’t even let my thoughts go there.

“It’s going to be okay,” I promise. “The chances of this resulting in an accidental pregnancy are so small.”

She wraps her arms around her middle, holding the towel against her br**sts. She studies the floor. “What would happen if I were? What if we had shitty luck and the small chance turns into a baby?” When she looks up at me through water-dampened lashes, I can see the confusion in her eyes.

“It’ll be okay.”

“But what if it’s not?”

Fuck, f**k, f**k. “Do we really have to have this conversation right now? Isn’t that just borrowing trouble?”

She squeezes her eyes shut and turns away from me. “I’m not trying to be melodramatic, but it matters.”

“I won’t ruin today. I’m not going to have a fight over nothing.”

“Why does it have to be a fight? I’m just asking what you’d do. What we’d do.”

“We’d figure it out. I have more than enough room here. You could move in with me or—”

“You think I’d move to LA?” The horror in her voice is a backhand to the face, a reminder of all the reasons I’ve kept this part of my life inaccessible to women. She points to the bedroom. “Is that what you meant when you said I had to choose? You want me to give up my life for you?”

“I didn’t say that.”

“But you’re saying it now, aren’t you?”

I set my jaw. I wish she’d turn around and look at me. “I said I want to find a way to make it work. I don’t know what that looks like because I’ve never allowed myself to consider it.”

“Consider it now,” she whispers. “In your mind, do I have to give up my bakery and move to LA if we’re going to be together?”

“My son is here,” I say slowly. “So in my mind, that’s the easiest solution. Can we please end this conversation? We’re arguing over a hypothetical—”

“No. This isn’t just a hypothetical. This is something I need to know.” She squeezes herself tightly and lowers her head. “If I’m going to choose, I need to know.”

I spin her around and squeeze her shoulders as I growl, “I. Love. You.” Anger tears through me with my frustration. I want my love to be enough for her. I want to be enough for her. But here we are, minutes after making love, and she’s holding me up to this other guy. “Why can’t that be enough for you? Not forever but for now. Please.”

She lifts her eyes to mine, and pain slices through my gut at the doubt I see there. Doubt in us. Doubt in me. “I think it’s time for me to look beyond here and now. Here and now is all I let myself think about this summer, and look where that got me.”

I flinch. “It got you here. With me. Is that so terrible?”

“And what happens next year? The year after that? What happens when I’m ready to have the house with the picket fence and you’re still in LA? What happens when I’m ready for babies?”

“Don’t do this. Don’t destroy what’s between us by asking it to carry more than it can hold. This is new, and it’s not fair to push it like this.”

“You’re the one who told me you wanted me to choose,” she whispers. “These are things I need to think about.”

I crush my mouth to hers and yank the towel from her body. I expect her to push me away, but I’m wrong. Jesus, am I wrong. She’s just as greedy for me as I am for her. Her hands go to my hair. Her br**sts press against my chest. Her tongue slides against mine, desperate. This is where we’ve always been good. There’s never been a question of the heat between us. Here’s where we can always find our way—this kiss, the heat of our bare skin pressed together. How can this be so powerful and mean nothing? I know it’s the question we’re both asking ourselves as terror holds us in its steely grip.

“Was it like this with him?” I ask against her ear, my hand skimming her side. “Did you need him the way you need me?”

“Don’t.”

“You didn’t, Hanna. There’s a reason I’m the one you let kiss you here.” I settle my hand between her legs, and her eyes float closed. “There’s a reason you never f**ked him and were ready to let me inside you the first night we met.”

“It’s different.”

“Damn straight it is.” I want to slide my fingers inside her, feel the slick walls of her heat, feel evidence of the need I won’t let her dismiss. But I know she’s gotta be sore and I settle for cupping her and the satisfaction of the needy rocking of her hips. “It’s different because you’re mine more than you were ever his. You might love him, but you need me. And if you choose him, you’ll always wonder if you and I could have made it work.”