The next morning I wake up to the feel of Christian’s hand on my hip, sliding around to my stomach and pulling him closer against him. I go stiff, still angry and upset about everything that happened yesterday, but he dips his head low and presses a kiss first to my shoulder, and then lower to my neck, and then pulls me tight against him as he sighs and tucks his head down close to mine.
“I’m sorry, Iris,” he whispers, his lips so close that I can feel them moving against my hair. “It hasn’t been fair – it hasn’t been right. I’m sorry about it – all of it.”
Something in the stark honesty of his words makes me turn in his arms. Christian helps me, settling me close to him, and we speak in a whispered hush in the dawn light.
“Why does it all have to happen now, so fast?” I ask quietly, sh
