Free The Perfect Man by Amanda K. Byrne Page A

of wood breaking the quiet, I knew this was the right thing. Not just giving Alex another chance, but sleeping apart. We’d gone with our gut the first night, and it had spooked us both. This space, this time, it gave us a buffer.
    It was so damn hard to do the right thing.
    As I was drifting off to sleep, the floorboards creaked, and I was scooped up, blankets and all. “What are you doing?”
    He didn’t stop until we were in the bedroom and he lay me on the bed and slid in beside me, tossing the extra blankets on the floor. “I’ve had a shitty, shitty day. I appreciate you not kicking me out, but I can’t sleep, knowing you’re out there. Just sleep,” he said quietly. “Will you tell me? About the tattoo?”
    The one on my foot. The Archer. I shifted and held up my arm, pretending I misunderstood him. “Anger’s a poison. You hold on to it, it eats at you from the inside. This was my reminder to let it go.” I moved to wind my legs through his. “Dragons are symbols of strength and luck. When I decide to quit my job and start working for myself, I figured I’d need all the luck and strength I could get.” I rubbed my foot over his calf. “My favorite aunt was a Sagittarius. She died of breast cancer a few years ago.” He picked up my hand and squeezed it, turned it over and pressed a kiss to my palm. I brought our joined hands to my hip. “Cats in ancient Egypt symbolized poise. It’s my version of a confidence booster, that the ones who could see beyond the skin and not assume were the ones worth hanging on to.”
    He edged closer and brought his hand around to stroke up my back, tracing over the tattoo at the base of my neck. “Gaelic for wisdom. Pretty self explanatory.” Down, down, worming under the hem of my tank, following the lines from memory, the veins and bones and shadows. “Lucy always said I needed to toughen up. That I trusted too easily, that I’d offer my heart to anyone. She wasn’t quite right. Just to the ones who matter,” I whispered.
    The silence stretched, my last words lingering in the shadows. Finally he nudged me around, my back to his front. His arm was strong and warm over my stomach. “I’ll take care of you, Hannah,” he whispered.
    His face buried in my neck, tears burning in my throat, I shut my eyes and allowed myself to hope.
    *

One Year Later
    “Baby, I get it, okay? Stop bitching about it.” I rolled my eyes and let myself in the building.
    “I asked for the night off three months ago. This shouldn’t have happened.” Alex sounded furious. I grinned. He’d wanted to make Valentine’s Day amazing, he said. I’d had a meeting with a client late in the day, and I’d planned to go straight from the meeting to the restaurant. But Alex had left me a message in the middle of the meeting, saying he’d gotten called in. So no fancy dinner for us.
    “Seriously. It’s fine. Go save a puppy or something.” I tried to locate my apartment key on the ring, juggling my laptop bag and purse at the same time. “Look, I’m about to drop something. I’ll see you when you get home.”
    He grumbled and hung up, and I slipped my phone in my pocket, then located the key. Before I could unlock the door to my unit, though, it swung open. Alex grinned at me, reaching out to take my laptop. “Surprise.”
    I scowled. “You did it on purpose, you sneak. No Valentine’s Day blow job for you.” I edged past him and stopped short at the entrance to the living room.
    He’d built a fire. Candles lined the mantel, the windowsill, the coffee table. He’d set the little table under the window with more candles, and there was a bucket of wine chilling in the middle of it, two glasses at the ready. A bouquet of dahlias, nearly impossible to get in winter, sat in front of one of the chairs.
    Strong arms slid around me from behind. “Happy Valentine’s Day,” he murmured.
    I turned around and looped my arms around his neck. “I love it.”
    “You don’t even know what