Page 109 of After We Fall

“I know,” he says. “That’s the worst part.”

Jason leans in and kisses me on the cheek. It feels more like a farewell than a casual goodbye. He trudges across the room, his gait heavy and defeated.

Luke approaches from my side, his attention locked on the retreating Jason. “He’s in love with you, you know.”

“I know.” I watch Jason kiss our adoptive mother on the cheek, shake the senator’s hand, and make a beeline to the exit.

“Which is tough luck for him.”

“Yes.”

“Because I’m in love with you.”

My whole body locks up, and I turn to him, my mouth gaping with shock. “When did you decide that you—that you were—are—when did you decide that?”

“I don’t think I decided anything,” he says with a cocky grin.

“What do you mean?”

“I don’t think it’s something you get a choice in. You just feel it.”

“But what if I—I mean, I’ve never . . .”

“It’s okay.” He steps closer, lowering his voice. “You just keep thinking about those irritating numbers in your head, and you’ll figure it out.”

Lyrics cascade across the room, crooning sweet declarations of sentiment—a duet about two people living in opposite parts of the world yet surrounded by reminders of the one they love.

He takes my hands and leans closer, his mouth at my ear. “I sure do hope hippies can appreciate country music, because we’re about to dance to this song.”

My shoulders shake, and I release a giggle.

“Ahh. Now that’s a sound I like to hear.”

I glance up at him. “What sound?”

“Your happiness.”

“Sometimes . . . sometimes I’m happy with you.”

He grins. “Sometimes?”

“Well, yes.” I nod. “Other times, you infuriate me.”

His grin turns into a blinding smile.

I shift my eyes over his shoulder. “I don’t think I’m doing a good job communicating what I mean.”

“Oh, no.” He chuckles. “I think you’re doing just fine.”

“But I’m not trying to be funny.”

“I know, baby. You can’t help yourself.”

Baby. Baby. Not just an endearment but a claim. A soft, sweet claim that I never tire of hearing.

He pulls me closer, one arm wrapping around my waist, the other around my shoulders. Our movements turn into more of an embrace than a dance. Luke lowers his head, and we dance cheek to cheek, my eyes closed as we sway. I only exist in this safe cocoon. With Luke Granger.

When the song winds down, he pulls back and slides his hands to cup my face, one thumb rubbing with a whisper touch over the apple of my cheek. “I know you don’t like surprises, Penelope, so I’ll give you a heads-up on this one.”