Page 93 of Rush

“Yep.” I take my boyfriend’s offered hand and let him lead me out of there, toward the elevator, and down to his apartment.

“Stop fidgeting,” Ares says kindly.

We’re standing outside the restaurant on Park Avenue where the taxi just dropped us off, where we’re having dinner with Ares’s family before Missy and Lo go back to their respective colleges. I’m wearing a capped-sleeve lemon dress that’s fitted at the waist and bust and flares out on the skirt, and I have white strappy sandals on that have skyscraper heels. I need to wear them if I’m having dinner with his bunch of supersize humans.

Missy told me that Cam is tall, too. Five-nine and a former ballet dancer.

I swear, I’m going to look like a Chihuahua among a bunch of Great Danes.

“I can’t help it. I’m nervous.” I shift on my feet. “What if Zeus, Cam, and Lo don’t like me?”

“Why wouldn’t they?”

“Um, a million reasons. I have a criminal record. I’m a drunk.” I tick off the reasons on my fingers.

“You’re not a drunk. You had a substance abuse issue, and now, you’re sober.”

“Semantics. They’re going to think I’m not good enough for you.”

“Babe, stop. I assure you, they’re going to be wondering what the hell a stunner like you is doing with me. Trust me. And I’m fully expecting for Lo to actually ask that question.”

“You’re funny.”

He takes my chin in his hand, tilting my head back, bringing my eyes up to his. “I’m serious. You’re amazing, babe. They’re going to love you.”

Do you?

I know it’s only been a short time that we’ve been together, but I’m pretty sure that I’m in love with this guy.

Okay, I’m not pretty sure. I am sure.

I’m totally gone for him.

But I have no clue if he feels the same.

And no way in hell am I telling him first. I’m just going to wait until he says it…if he ever does.

God, I hope he does.

“Where have you gone?” he asks, carefully eyeing me.

“Nowhere.” I force a smile.

“Babe…I know we already talked about this…that they serve alcohol here. But, if at any point it’s too much for you, let me know, and we can leave.”

“I’ll be okay.”

“I don’t doubt that. But, in the small instance it isn’t—”

“You’ll be the first I tell.”

He presses a soft kiss to my lips. “Let’s go inside.”

He takes my hand and leads me inside the restaurant.

“Do you have a reservation?” the host asks when we approach.

“Yes. Under Kincaid,” Ares tells him.