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“And you were planning on going out?”
She snaked her arms around his neck. “Yes.”
“But then I showed up.”
“And now I can’t get drunk and dance and make out with strangers.”
He combed his fingers through her hair. “Sorry.”
“I’m not.”
He kissed her forehead. “You forgive me?”
“Depends. Are you moving in with me?”
He tipped his chin toward a duffel bag a few feet away. “I have all my bags packed.”
“That’s it? That’s all you brought?”
With his arms banded against her back, he lifted her up, her feet dangling a few inches from the ground. “All I need is you.” Then he kissed her, and with him holding her against his chest, she could feel his heart beating against hers. Like they were mirror images of each other. “But,” he said, nipping at her lower lip, “there are some other boxes in my car.”
“You can get them tomorrow. We’re going to sway tonight.”
He ducked his face into her neck. “I missed you.”
“I missed you too,” she murmured, tugging on the roots of his hair until he set her down, meeting her gaze. “And I love you.”
He inhaled sharply and curved his palm around her cheek in the way that made her feel like the most precious thing on earth. “I don’t know if I’ll ever get used to hearing that.”
She gave him a sardonic smile. “Well, I guess I do need some practice saying it.”
“I love you,” he said, pressing his forehead to hers. “I love you, and I know you love me without ever having to say it. Your love language is acts of service.”
She dragged her fingers over his beard. “You learn that one from Bronte?”
“Yeah,” he rasped, his fingers tight against her lower back when he said, “but I’ve known what’s in your heart for a long time.”
She whispered her “I love you” into his mouth before stroking her tongue against his, pulling at his lips, promising a future together with her kisses, and when they finally broke apart, he smiled—his biggest one yet—before placing the flowers into her hands. “For you, peaches.”
“You know,” she said lightly, like she was floating on air, “turns out I love this whole serious relationship thing.” Then she opened the door, sending Mike one more glowing look over her shoulder, calling out, “Farid, meet my boyfriend.”
He was on the couch in the living room, eating pretzels. “You guys are going to make me the third wheel, aren’t you?”
And Mike laughed, a carefree sound that Sam would carry with her forever.
EPILOGUE
Mike hauled Sam onto the couch and moved the laptop so they were both on-screen.
“There she is,” Bronte said, waving.
Sam held up the bottle of champagne in explanation. “Couldn’t forget this.” She peered at the screen as she unwrapped the foil from around the bottle. “Where’s Bobby?”
Laney waved her hand. “A big shindig at the restaurant.”
Since Mike and Sam had gotten back together, he’d officially been inducted into the group chat,Four Chicks and Three Dicks.When he asked Sam why Bobby wasn’t included, she shrugged and said he wasn’t interested. He’d evidently told Laney, “They’re your friends, not mine.” Not that Mike minded.
The Aussie had unknowingly stoked a fire that had been brewing a long time in Mike, which resulted in his breaking Sam’s heart. And even though he didn’t blame Bobby, he still thought the guy was a bit of a dick. And not the good kind.
