Page 68 of The Story Between Us

“I meant it.”

“I know.”

Silence. The porch light flickered.

She should say good night. Go inside⁠—

“I’m glad you’re here,” he said again. Quieter this time. “I know I already said that. But I am. Even if it’s only to get words out of me.” He gave her a sad, wry smile.

Oh. Yeah. But her heart cracked open.

And for a second, she didn’t care if he finished his book.

“I’ll see you tomorrow,” he said. “For some great writing.”

And then—because she was Livvie Fox and she apparently had zero control over herself when this man was involved—she did finger guns.

Finger guns.

She even clicked her tongue and said, “You got it, champ.”

Champ.

Oh brother.

Please let the ground open up and swallow her.

Nate stared at her. A beat. Two.

And then he laughed.

Not a polite chuckle. A real laugh—warm and surprised and genuine, transforming his whole face, making his eyes crinkle at the corners and his shoulders shake. He had a dimple, she realized. Just one. On the left side.

She was going to die thinking about that dimple.

“Did you just finger-guns me?” he asked.

“I don’t want to talk about it.”

“You said ‘champ.’”

“I’m going inside now.”

“Livvie.” He was still laughing. Still smiling. Still looking at her like she was the most delightful thing he’d ever seen. “That was adorable.”

“It was mortifying. Good night.”

She turned toward the cottage, face burning.

“Livvie.”

She stopped. Didn’t turn around. Couldn’t.

“I like you,” he said. Soft. Simple. Devastating. “I just wanted you to know that.”

And then she heard his footsteps on the path, heading back around his car.

She clutched his jacket around her shoulders like a lifeline and fled inside.