His head lifted, eyes searching mine. Then he kissed me, slower this time, until everything else faded. There was only the warmth of him and the soft drag of his mouth on mine.
How was this our first kiss? Impossible. There wasn’t a world where I hadn’t kissed him a thousand times. Or maybe it was just years of moments, silent ones, savage ones, of knowing someone at their worst and finally breaking through to see them at their best. The way they’d been the whole time.
We lingered there, breathing each other in, our foreheads resting together while the fire crackled behind us. Somewhere from deep within the house, a floorboard creaked. The ghost guarding her room. And for once, the house didn’t feel so haunted.
Grant’s voice came low, rough around the edges. “So… who won?”
My lips curved, though I didn’t pull back. “Don’t make me say it.”
He tilted his head, one eyebrow lifting, the playful glint returning to his eyes. “Come on. You know you want to.”
I sighed, pretending defeat even as my chest ached from this moment. I’d already lost my magic once, when my belief in love weakened. If it came back because of him, and we failed, when I could’ve just rewritten everything, I wouldn’t know how to pick up the pieces.
Which was why I smiled like nothing hurt and hid behind the joke.
“Fine,” I whispered. “It was… a tie.”
His laughter was quiet and full of warmth. “Someone save me from this witch and her gift puns. I’ll wash, you dry?”
“Deal, Delaney.”
Chapter 20
Grant
The you beneath thesuit.
I held the tie up to my chest, staring at the holiday flamingos in the vanity mirror. Trust Valerie to find the one thing ridiculous enough to make sense of me. How had she done it—found the perfect gift? The one I didn’t even know I needed.
Our game wasn’t a tie. Not by a long shot.
My gaze shifted over my shoulder to where she was curled up in bed, one arm flung over the pillow, hair tangled. Just the sight of her made my throat tight. In that way, you know you couldn’t possibly go back to a time from before. Where she wasn’t filling my cold, gray life with sunlight and heat.
And now I knew the truth—that I hadn't been the only one treating our made-up vows like the real thing. That simple confession replayed in my head, too real to ignore.
I turned off the overhead light, leaving the bedside lamp lit in case she woke and needed it. Then I eased onto the mattress, careful not to wake her.
The space between us lasted all of thirty seconds before she sighed and rolled into me, nestling against my shoulder as ifshe’d been doing it her whole life. A muffled sound escaped her, followed by a sleepy approval of my furnace-like qualities.
Delaneys were supposed to be stoic. Composed. Carved from the same ice that kept the agency running for generations. I was the first one who didn’t fit the mold, who joked too hard, took risks, and made mistakes.
Ever since Matt died, I’d been trying to sand down the rough edges and stifle the parts of me that didn’t belong. Maybe that’s why I used to hate those things in her—the noise, the brightness, the effortless perfection that I now realized wasn’t effortless at all.
Thanks to our bizarre fate, Valerie had become the second Delaney who didn’t fit.
This woman, who was controlled chaos, who loved too much, and lived life like glitter was the answer—wasmy wife.Even if it was an accident, and even if she’d taken this case to erase our disastrous beach wedding as if it never happened.
But what if that kiss, and the secret we'd let slip between us, hadn't been enough to convince her?
The thought knocked the breath out of me. Because if it wasn't, I realized I only had a week left to keep her.
A week wouldn’t be enough. A lifetime would just scratch the surface.
That night, I didn’t sleep.
She avoided my eyes the next morning, and even though I wanted to, I didn’t push. Whatever that kiss meant, naming it was scarier than the ghost. But every time she rambled to keep things light or used me as her personal foot warmer, it felt like trying to keep a spark from catching fire.
The next few days blurred into a strange rhythm, equal parts investigation and avoidance. Both ofus were dancing around our new dynamic. We’d spent years as rivals, but now the grudges were stripped away, leaving only the raw truth underneath. We weren’t enemies. And friends didn’t kiss like that. So we did the only thing that felt safe—we focused on the ghost.
