Page 54 of Lease to Love

My stomach dropped four floors.

I instinctively touched my face. "What about them?"

"You covered them up."

I gave him a dramatic gasp. "It has eyes! Roman Sterling, functioning human being, with working eyesight! Someone notify the press—"

"You didn't have to do that."

I pulled out my phone, already deciding I was going to ignore him for the rest of the ride. "Yeah," I said. "I didn't have to do a lot of things."

He reached forward and pressed the ignition.

"Let me rephrase that."

He looked at me before pulling away from the curb, and something in his voice made me glance over.

"Don't do it again."

My mouth opened.

I had a whole response ready. Something sarcastic and sharp and perfectly suited to the relationship we'd had for the last three years.

But I looked at his face.

There was no joke there. No irritation. No command.

Just something steady in his eyes that made the words die before they reached my mouth.

So I looked out the window instead.

And the silence followed us all the way to Langston House.

The Langston Park Block Association's twentieth anniversary gala was being held in the main hall, a grand old ballroom on the neighborhood's central corridor that had been standing for more than a century and had been just about everything a community could need over the years. Jazz club. Polling station. Community center. Dance hall. Meeting space.

Somebody's grandmother had probably gotten married in there. Somebody else's grandfather had probably gotten arrested outside it.

The building had survived decades of change because Langston Park had refused to let it disappear, and tonight the place was glowing.

Cars filled the lot when we pulled in. Through the tall windows, I could already see movement and warm pools of light, hear the muffled swell of music and conversation spilling through the doors every time somebody entered.

Roman parked but didn't immediately get out. Instead, he turned toward me.

"All right," he said. "Game plan."

I nodded.

"Our story is simple. We've been together less than two weeks. We're keeping it low-key because of everything with your ex, but I wasn't waiting another second to scoop you up once you were single."

I made a face. "Gross."

"You'll live."

"Maybe with a shot of penicillin."

"Second,” he continued, ignoring me, “the reason nobody has ever seen us together before now is because the two of us have spent the last few years pretending we didn't want each other."

I blinked.