“Yeah, Mom. I know.” I tried to smile, but I could still see the sadness in her. So I changed the subject. “So, I was wondering if you could do me a favor?”

“Anything.”

Chloe met us outside the hotel to say our good-byes.

Mom hugged Chloe longer than necessary, but Chloe didn’t seem to mind. “Thank you for coming to see us, Mrs. Hunter. Oh, and the car, thank you so much for the car.”

Mom patted the side of Chloe’s face and smiled. “Anything for you two,” she said, then to me, “Get a haircut, Blake. You look like a gigolo.”

I closed Mom’s car door and watched as she drove away.

“Yeah,” Chloe said from behind me. “My own private gigolo.” She smacked my ass.

“Should you have been paying me this entire time?”

She winked. “Maybe you’re not worth it!” Then she bolted, running away from me and back to the hotel room.

She got about ten feet before I caught her. “What the hell makes you think you can outrun me?” I picked her up and threw her over my shoulder. “You can’t even do two push-ups!” I smacked her ass and carried her back to the room. She laughed the entire time.

Chloe

I was sitting up in bed, with his head on my lap, playing with his hair. We were supposed to be watching a movie, but I didn’t think either of us was paying attention.

His eyes caught mine when he turned to look up at me. “What are you thinking?”

My eyebrows bunched.

“You always play with my hair when you’re lost in thought. What’s up?” He moved to get into bed and under the covers, tugging me down so we were lying face-to-face. “Talk.”

What could I say? I love you, but I’m scared that I’m dying? I faked a smile. “What did you and your mom talk about today?”

His eyebrows rose, as if he knew I was talking bullshit. He sighed before answering. “Her and Dad are getting a divorce—”

“I’m sorry, Blake.”

“Nothing to be sorry about. Mom and I are fine with it. She thought I’d be upset about it, but I’m not. I’m happy for her.”

His eyes drifted shut when I reached for his hair again, moving it away from his eyes. “What else?”

He leaned in closer, kissing me softly. I opened my mouth, inviting him. But he pulled back before he could get there. “I told her about Duke.”

My face lit up. “You did? And?”

“She said she would support me, whatever I choose.”

“Was she proud of you?”

“Yeah,” he said, nodding. “I also told her about how much I love you,” he whispered against my lips. His own moved to my neck. “I love you so much, Chloe.” His deep voice vibrated against my skin. “So much,” he repeated.

CHAPTER THIRTY-THREE

Chloe

My eyes fluttered open when I felt his lips on my back, moving lower and lower. I turned quickly. “What are you doing, boyfriend?”

He made his way back up, kissing each of my breasts on the way. We’d fallen asleep naked after making love for the third time. No. Fourth.

He smiled into my neck, bringing my body flush against his. I reached up to stroke his back. “No run this morning?”

He pulled back so I could see his face. His beautiful face and the beautiful smile that graced it. “No. Just wanted to lie here and hold the girl I love. I couldn’t leave you, even if I tried.” He shook his head, trying to move the hair away from his eyes. “Mom was right, I need a haircut.”

Laughing, I moved in to kiss his chest, skimming my lips along his collarbone. He let out a frustrated groan and pushed gently on my shoulders, making me look up at him. “We need to get out of this bed,” he said and then looked around the room. “Actually, we need to get out of this room.” He pulled away, and got up. “I’m gonna get rid of this gigolo hair before you get any ideas,” he stated, before covering his hard-on with his hands and making his way to the shower. “You’re gonna be the end of me.”

Heads turned when we walked into the salon. One hairdresser even froze mid-blow-dry. Her client yelped before she realized what she’d done. As always, Blake didn’t even notice.

“Can I help you?” the girl behind the desk said. She didn’t actually say it—more like purred it. And the eighteen-year-old insecure girl in me wanted to wipe the flirtatious smile off her Barbie-blonde head. He must’ve known, sensed it somehow, because he threw his arm over my shoulders, pulled me into him, and kissed my temple before answering her, “My girlfriend likes to tug on my hair when we . . . you know? I’m thinking it needs to be cut back a lot. She’s startin’ to hurt me.”

A few giggles were heard.

I blushed and covered my face in his chest. And then I stomped on his foot. Hard.

He released a pained cry before laughing. “See? She likes it rough.”

An older woman came over and shooed blonde Barbie away. She winked at me before looking up, up, up to Blake. “Your girlfriend’s beautiful. You shouldn’t embarrass her like that.” Then to me, “You want anything done today, sweetheart?”

I started to shake my head, but then an idea came to mind. “Would you have time to dye my hair?”

She eyed my hair quickly. “Just a touch-up on the roots?”

“Um. No, ma’am. I was thinking maybe go back to my natural color. I feel like being phenomenal today.”