And then it hits me.
I've never done this before.
Never held someone through the night. I've neverwantedto.
Every woman before her was a good time, a great review, and a cab called before sunrise. I never stayed. And I never let anyone stay here.
My mask has always been on. Even naked, even in the dark.
But Zoey mumbles something in her sleep, sounds like "cardamom", and presses closer as her hand drifts across my chest until her palm settles right over my heartbeat.
And I know.
She's mine.
She's mine. And I'm hers. And nothing has ever felt this right.
My phone buzzes on the nightstand. I reach for it without disturbing her.
Delaney: Launch party 'surprises' confirmed for Saturday. Don't let me down, Lane.
I look at Zoey sleeping in my arms. At the woman whose dreams are written in a notebook I've memorized cover to cover.
I set the phone down and pull her closer.
I've got this.
Chapter 14
Zoey
“Stop fidgeting, sweetheart, or I’ll glue this curl to your scalp.”
Debbie’s voice is a gentle threat as her fingers work another pin into the twist of hair at the back of my neck.
I force my shoulders to relax, but it’s a losing battle. My knee hasn’t stopped bouncing since Colt kissed me goodbye two hours ago, promising he’d handle everything at The Den and I should just 'get pretty.'
As if I needed the reminder.
“He took the last trays over an hour ago,” I murmur, more to myself than to Debbie. “The raspberry tarts, the salted caramel brownies, the cardamom-butter twists… He loaded his SUV like it was game-day equipment.”
“That man,” Debbie says, her reflection in my bathroom mirror smiling softly, “has got it bad for you. And not just because of your baking, though I’m sure that helps.”
My cheeks flush.
This week has been a blur. Three days have passed since that night in Colt’s apartment. Since he showed me how he's memorized my notebook and baked my dreams into reality. Since he took me to his shower, then his bed, and showed me how to be loud again.
How to bemeagain.
Every time I think about it my stomach does a slow, delicious somersault.
I haven't felt like this inyears.Probably since before I married Daniel.
“There,” Debbie announces, stepping back. She spins my stool around to face the full-length mirror. “Take a look.”
For a second, I don’t recognize the woman staring back.
My dark hair, usually thrown into a messy bun, falls in another famousDebbie Blowout. But tonight, special for the event at The Den, she’s done some kind of magic with a curling wand. She added what she called 'texturizing spray,' and the result is… elegant.
