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and ached at the thought, and his eyes stung with tears, threatening at the corners.
    Had he cried today at the funeral?
    Oh, fuck. She had to have seen him.
    The only time he cried was when she blamed herself.
    It’s all my fault . . .
    Christ. It ripped him to pieces to hear her say that.
    He concentrated on how her warm body had felt on him while sitting on the couch, on how her hand had been in his so many times today, and most of all—the content expression she wore when she stood on that beach.
    He wanted to see that look on her face again, and he’d do anything to put it there once more, even if it meant building her a goddamn beach house in that exact spot where she stood today.
    In the end, he lay in bed and listened to some music until sleep finally claimed him.

Chapter 3
     
    Dark. Oh Jesus, it was so dark a chill ran down her spine.
    She reached out to touch Pono, but he was missing.
    Her heart wrenched.
    Alone .
    This was how it might be from now on.
    Her bed was empty, and it smelled like Mark.
    The guilt was back like a suffocating wet blanket. She took off her wedding ring and shoved it in her purse on the floor next to the bed.
    After a few steadying breaths, she tiptoed down the hallway to the other side of his house.
    His door was slightly open.
    It creaked when she pushed it open wider.
    It was cracked, so that meant this was okay, right?
    Her feet slid over the floor, and instead of feeling foreign and scary, it felt so right that it was even more frightening.
    She climbed into bed with him, slipped under the covers and found his body heat right away.
    He was always so warm, putting a permanent smile on her body and into her heart.
    “What’re you . . .” He shifted closer to her, half-asleep with a groggy voice as he mumbled something about how she’d had a long day.
    “Shit, sorry. Can I . . . ? Is it—I’ll go,” she said, ungluing her body from his and turning away.
    His hand reached out and pulled her back. “No. Stay.” He swallowed and licked his bottom lip. “I’ll be a gentleman, I promise. You need this, and so do I.”
    “I’m sorry, but I . . .” Tears spilled down her cheeks. “You helped me so much earlier today, and I . . . God, why can’t I stop crying now when I didn’t even do this at the funeral?”
    “You’ve been through hell. It’s understandable, and you don’t need a reason to cuddle with me. I like it.” He nuzzled his nose into the top of her hair. Christ, she loved it when he did that. “Mmm . . .” He hummed and tightened his arm around her.
    Her insides exploded with a heat to match his body. “You’re so warm. I know this sounds crazy, but you’re the exact body temperature I seem to need. It’s so weird. Pono would make me sweat, and I’d get annoyed. I never told him that, though,” she blurted, sounding mortified with her admission at the end when she realized what she’d just shared.
    He probably thought she was incredibly calloused to say that about her husband and his deceased friend.
    “It’s fine, Jean. You never have to worry I’m going to judge you. I understand completely.” She started to say something else to justify and defend herself, but he covered her lips with a finger and shushed her. “No more talking. You need your sleep. I’ll help you relax.”
    A moment later, he had her half-draped over his chest with his hands caressing her back and combing through her hair, making her scalp tingle and zing. He did it over and over while he hummed.
    Her body was a sponge, soaking up every drop of affection he gave her.
    He took several deep breaths, and she sighed as she melted into him.
    So comfortable to sleep on for a man that was nothing but slabs of finely honed muscles.
    He whispered something about how glad he was she was here, or at least that was the last thing she remembered before falling off to sleep.
     
    * * *
     
    When Mark woke early the next morning, the sheet was tied in knots around his legs, but he didn’t