He smirks, stepping behind me, his stubbled chin rubbing my shoulder. “Oh, it’s working, then?”
“I didn’t say that,” I blurt, heat rising in my cheeks.
“You didn’tnotsay it.”
I roll my eyes, but I’m grinning. When I turn in his embrace, my heart beats so loud I can barely hear the searing noise from my pan.
Shit. There’s nothing to tug. He got rid of the towel in the last ten seconds.
How will I do this?
I do the next best thing that usually signals him to hug me tight. I tug lightly on the waistband of his sweatpants. I hope it works. That he identifies my signal like he always does.
And voila!He circles his arms around me like I’m the one who’s keeping him steady. My hold on himtightens, feeling his presence so I can shake off the memories of his absence these past couple weeks.
A moment later, the pan calls to me. I plate the lamb, seared to a perfect medium, beside roasted squash and the risotto. It’s Levi’s favorite—not that he ever explicitly said so, but I think Iknow. It’s in my notes already.
We settle on the bar stools, eating like people who are used to silence but still not immune to glances. And the fact that this relationship is still new brings me equal parts joy and dread. Dread because of the marital clause.
“How was the day?” I ask carefully.
“Surprisingly uneventful. Taewon and I were getting the Coquitlam issue under control.” He pauses. “But I’m glad it’s almost over. I missed you.”
My heart twists at the sincerity in his voice. He means it, but my mind betrays me again.
He’s here… but where has he been?
I chase the thought away with a smile. “By the way, my parents’ anniversary party is this weekend.”
He blinks. “Wait—that’sthisweekend?”
He forgot, didn’t he?
I nod slowly. “I sent the invite a week ago.”
His jaw tightens just a little. “Shit, Cece. I—yeah. Yeah, I saw it. I should’ve RSVP’d.”
“You don’t have to come if it’s—”
“No, no. I want to come,” he says, reaching across to brush his fingers over my wrist. “I’ll be there. I promise.”
The touch is light, but it stings somehow. Because I’m not sure if I’m being put off his priority list temporarily, or being erased under the guise of this merger.
After dinner, when he leans in on the couch as we watch a TV show and plants a soft kiss against the side of my neck, my eyes flutter close.
The grim train of thought dissipates with every deliciously lingering kiss he presses on to my skin.
He actually loves me. Doesn’t he? The clause be damned. He hasn’t said it, though. Not in the past fourteen days. But that’s okay.
Tonight,I’llsay it. I’ll gather the courage and say it first. I don’t need to wait. He’s been shouldering that for two months already.
He pulls me onto his lap like it’s instinct. My fingers slip seamlessly over his bare chest. His mouth is hot against mine. The TV hums something meaningless in the background, but it’s already forgotten.
We move together like we’re rehearsing a favorite scene—familiar, slow.Hungry as ever.
“Jesus fucking Christ,” he breathes out. “I missed you, dammit.”
When he kisses me again, deeper this time, I can’t help but think this is it. This is the moment. I’ll tell him now. Or after this kiss.
