Banging my fist on the solid wood, I wait, huffing as I struggle to drag oxygen back into my lungs. She doesn’t answer right away, and I imagine all types of scenarios. Did she look through the peephole, see it was me, and decide to let me stand out here and rot? Is she hurt? Is she even here?

I check the number on the door. 236. Definitely the right apartment. I pound on it again, more demanding this time. Then I pick up faint movement on the other side.

When the door opens, I release a relieved breath. There she is, her hair a ratted mess on top of her head, dressed in nothing but a long black t-shirt that strains over her swollen belly. Goddamn, she’s even more beautiful than I remember.

“Levi, what the hell are you doing here?” she asks, her voice raspy from sleep.

Definitely woke her up. My gaze tracks over her once more, and then I get annoyed. “Do you always open the door to strangers in the middle of the night? What if I was some crazy axe murderer?”

She rolls her eyes in that huffy way of hers that drives me crazy and gets me hard all at once. “I have a peephole,” she informs me, pointing to it. “And for the record, even though I saw that it was you, I almost called the cops anyway. Why the hell are you pounding on my door this late at night? Are you trying to get me evicted?”

Pushing the door open, I invite myself inside since she’s clearly not going to. Setting my bag down on the coffee table, I turn to her and ask, “Did you catch the show tonight?”

After closing the door and securing the locks, Vista crosses the room, bypassing the couch and climbing back into bed. Not that it makes much of a difference. They’re practically the same room.

Still, after all this time apart, even that small amount of distance is too much. Kicking off my shoes, I crawl in beside her.

Her eyes pop open and she hisses, “What are you doing in my bed?”

“Talking to you. What does it look like?”

“Like you’re in my bed. Get out.”

“No. Now tell me, did you see the show or not?”

“Since I’m not a glutton for punishment and I have no clue what you’re talking about, obviously not.” She releases a huge yawn that makes me smile. Dammit she’s adorable. How did I stay away this long?

Digging out my phone, I type in my name and Jimmy’s and instantly get a hit. Just as I thought, someone’s already uploaded it to YouTube. Damn, I love technology sometimes.

Handing the phone off to her, I tell her, “Here, watch it,” figuring it’ll make more sense if she sees it than if I try to explain it.

Casting me a suspicious frown, she takes it and rolls onto her back, getting comfortable. Holding the phone in the air, over her face, she starts the feed.

While she lays there watching, my attention drifts lower to her abdomen. It’s fuller than it was last time I was here. Rounder. Without thinking, I reach out and rest my hand on it, earning a sharp look, but Vista doesn’t tell me to stop, so I don’t.

I listen to the interview progress with half an ear, until I feel a strong bump directly beneath my palm, then I’m not listening at all. My attention is one hundred percent riveted to what’s happening in her stomach.

Several sharp jabs hit the underside of my hand and right before my eyes, I watch her basketball of a stomach roll and shift, bulging and sinking in this crazy ass dance that has my heart trying to beat clear out of my chest.

I have never seen anything like it. To imagine a whole person inside there, moving around, is mind-blowing. I have a million things that want to burst from my mouth right now—namely, a shout of pure elation—but I keep it bottled up, afraid that if I make even the slightest sound, she’ll boot me out the door.

I’m not stupid. I know I fucked up pretty bad. But I’m here, and she’s here, and this is happening, and I’m hoping to fucking God that she still feels something for me.

“Just one more chance,” I hear myself whisper as I move down the bed and curl my arms around her belly, holding our son the only way possible. “I know you hate me right now, and you have every reason to, but please don’t send me away. Please tell me we can still fix this.”

The plea shutters out of me and I’m shocked to realize that I’m crying. Like real fucking tears. My fingers swipe at the moisture coating my cheeks and I stare at them, dumbfounded because I can’t recall the last time I cried.

I’ve broken bones and smiled through the pain.

Feeling something soft touch my hand, I look up to see Vista’s fingers curling around mine. Her face is obscured by the phone, but what I can see of her is set aglow. I don’t know if she’s responding to my whispered plea or the video. I don’t even know what it means, but that single touch gives me a shred of hope.

Afraid to move, afraid that if I do it will break the spell and she’ll take her hand away, I hold as still as possible. The only thing that moves is my head, because I can’t help myself from kissing her hard stomach, from running my lips tenderly across it. It’s so unbelievable that we made an entire person together. The love I feel for both of them can’t be described.

I listen closely as she gets to the part where Jimmy asks me if I want to say anything. Her hand squeezes in mine as we listen to my words together.

“You were right, princess. It’s you and me. So don’t lock that door just yet. Make sure you leave a light on.”

The video jumps ahead to the rest of the interview and Vista presses the button on the side of the phone to shut it off, taking the light with it. The room is dark and full of shadows now, but I can still make out her general form. Setting the phone down on the blankets beside her, she asks softly, “Keep a light on?”

There’s confusion and a touch of humor in her tone, and I feel what some might describe as a bashful smile curl the corners of my mouth. “Yeah, well, I never claimed to be a poet.”

There’s a long pause and I hold my breath, bracing myself for whatever she has to say.

“When was the interview?”

“Tonight. Well, last night, I guess. I lost track of my days on the flight. I left as soon as the interview was done.”

“You flew all the way from California?”

I nod against her stomach, realizing the way that I’m curled around her, with her hand in mine, is about as intimate as two people can get without having sex.

“What did you mean by the light thing?”

Shit, I knew I should have been clearer. That’s what I get for trying to be clever. Groaning at my own idiocy, I explain. “It was just my way of saying that I was on my way and to wait up for me. I guess I fucked that all up, huh?” I grimace, glad for the darkness. If she could see my face now—“Hey!” The room is suddenly brighter than the sun, forcing my eyes into narrow slits.

“You trying to get back at me for leaving by burning my eyes out of their sockets, woman?” I complain, rubbing them furiously. It takes some time, but they eventually adjust to the light.

When I can focus, I see Vista is laying there, nestled in a mound of pillows, staring at me with this unreadable expression. I can’t tell if she’s happy or if she’s about to rip my balls off and serve them to me for dinner.

A slow smile breaks out and, using the hand that’s holding mine, she pulls herself up to sit. The action forces me to sit back on my knees, bringing us inches apart.

“Sorry,” she says with a smile that tells me she is anything but that. “I was just keeping a light on for you.”

My jaw drops and I study her for any indication that she’s pulling my leg. Maybe this is just her way of punishing me, getting my hopes up before she drops me on my ass. But when I look into those soft brown eyes, all I see is sincerity.

“Am I hearing you right?”

“Depends on what you think you’re hearing.”

“I think I just heard you say that you forgive me and that you can’t live another second without me.”