The kind that doesn’t fade.
The kind neither of us will ever forget.
The elevator climbs, floor by floor, each ding hitting me harder than the last. My heart thuds heavier, like it’s bracing for something it knows is coming but can’t name.
Yes, it can. Maddy.
I glance down at her—the black dress hugging her curves like it was designed just for tonight. Just for this. It’s technically our wedding night, even if tequila and a dare are the only witnesses that matter.
The tension between us isn’t uncomfortable. It’s electric. Like the split second before lightning strikes.
“A nickel for your thoughts, Americana?” I ask, breaking the silence.
We’re passing the eighth floor. Twenty-two more to go.
She smiles. “It’s a penny, actually. A penny for your thoughts is how the saying goes.”
I reach into my pocket, pull a penny out, and with a grin, do the old magician’s trick—pretending to pluck it from behind her ear.
“For your thoughts,” I say, holding it out like it’s worth everything. Like her thoughts are.
“I don’t do things like this,” she repeats.
“You’ve said that already,” I reply, grinning. “Three times now, if we’re keeping track.”
She lets out a breath and looks up at me, eyes wide and honest. “Is it crazy that this doesn’t feel crazy at all?”
Relief breaks through my chest. “I was hoping it wasn’t just me.”
She shakes her head. “It’s not just you.”
Floor thirteen.
“Maybe it’s because we don’t know each other,” I offer.
“Maybe,” she echoes, but there’s a note of uncertainty in her voice, like even she’s not sure that’s the reason but she entertains it anyway.
I brush a strand of hair behind her ear. “So, tell me something about you.”
She laughs, light and tipsy. “Why do people always ask that? Nobody walks around with an elevator pitch ready for that kind of question.”
I furrow my brow. “Elevator pitch?”
She nods, a little unsteady. “Yeah. Your question’s too vague.” She squints at me. “What’s your name again?”
I chuckle. “For the fourth time, Declan.”
“Right.” She draws it out like she’s tasting it. “That’s a pretty name. Declan. Sexy.”
I shake my head, trying not to grin. “You were saying?”
“Hiccup! Right. ‘Tell me something about you’ is too broad.” She blinks, trying to steady herself. “Ask me something specif… pacif…”
She’s teetering. Drunk, but still cute as hell.
“Okay,” I say. “Something specific. Tell me something no one else knows about you.”
Her eyes widen like I’ve just dared her. “Oooooh. Good one.”
