“You matter.” She peeks down at the candles. I love the way her hair spills around her shoulders, and her bangs frame the rosy apples of her cheeks. “Make a wish.”
I meet her gaze, then lick my lips, a small curl of satisfaction taking root in my chest at her small inhale, before closing my eyes and blowing out the candles. She’s about to set the tray on my lap when I gently nudge my fist under her chin and shake my head.
“Put the tray down for a sec, sweetheart.”
When she turns, her hands free, I tug her by the hem of my shirt until her thighs bump against the mattress. She tumbles forward, bracing one palm against my bare chest, the other cupping my jaw. Her thumb sweeps over my bottom lip, leaving behind the sweet ghost of whipped cream and maple syrup.
I groan, hauling her onto the bed with me. Izzy yelps, butthe sound softens when my palms slide down to grip her rounded ass.
“We’re never getting out of this bed,” I whisper against her ear. “Not now. Birthday pancakes really sealed your fate. I’m keeping you.”
She wiggles against me, then freezes, realizing her mistake. It’s quiet until her eyes lift to meet mine, and she says, “I’m glad you’re home, Jack.”
My hand threads into her hair, closing the distance between us until I sip at her lips, losing myself in the taste of her. It’s fucking heaven to hold her again. I’ve missed her.
Missed her so damn much.
I roll over, tossing back the comforter so she can climb in beside me. “Come on, we’ll split the pancakes and watch the parade.”
Her face lights up, and a smile that steals my breath hits me right in the chest. “Really?”
“Okay, fine. If you’re going to make such a big deal out of it, I’ll eat you out again after.”
She playfully slaps my stomach, and because I’m the luckiest bastard on Earth this morning, I steal another slow kiss. Izzy laughs against my mouth, climbing on top of me to reach over for the remote resting on the stack of books on her nightstand.
“We don’t have to go later. We can say we’re sick.”
She peers down at me before I grip her waist and roll us over, lay her back into the nest of blankets, then slip out of bed. A few minutes later, I return with a cup of fresh coffee and crawl back in beside her.
“Thank you,” she murmurs, wrapping both hands around the warm mug.
I wish I didn’t ever have to leave.
Izzy presses her hand against her forehead. “You’re right, I think I’m coming down with something.”
I smile around the forkful of blueberry pancakes. “Terrible timing.”
Izzy grips her cup and hides behind it, but I can see the smile lines crowding around her eyes.
Unfortunately, we have Thanksgiving at my parents’ house in a few hours, then we’re supposed to head to her mom’s place later in the afternoon.
“You nervous?” I ask.
“About your family? A little.”
“Don’t be. They love you.”
I say it easily, but as the words leave my mouth, I realize it’s true. And more than that, I want them to love her.Needthem to. I need them to see what I do when I look at her. Sure, she’s met Nana, Annie, and Ethan, but bringing her around to my parents?
That seems… important.
Which is exactly why getting out of this bed feels like stepping into the part of the day where everything could go right… or go really, really wrong.
“When did you have time to bake a pie?” I ask, reaching into the back seat.
Izzy runs her hand through her hair. “Please. As if you have to ask.”
The air is bitterly cold today, sweeping off the beach beyond my parents’ house. It seeps through the wool of my coat, and a shiver races down my back as I bring my hands to my mouth and blow to warm them up. There’s a giant inflatable turkey wearing a Pilgrim hat by the hydrangeas in front of the dining room. Ethan’s truck is pulled behind Annie’s beat-up Camry. There’s duct tape on the driver’s door. Not sure how it passedinspection—actually, I’m positive it didn’t—but Annie always finds a way.
