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By the time I pulled into the lot at Luigi’s, the silence was killing me. All I wanted was a moment inside that head of hers. So the moment I parked the car, I turned to her. “Okay, what’s up? You’ve been super quiet this whole ride.”
“Oh. Um, it’s nothing,” Mia said, but her voice was two octaves too high, betraying her.
I arched a brow. “The Mia I know never hesitates to tell me what’s on her mind. Are you plotting my demise? Should I be worried?”
“Maybe.” Mia grinned, then quieted again and glanced out the window, biting her lip. Those teeth. That mouth. They were killing me.
“You’re doing it again,” I said, drawing her attention. “Tell me what you’re thinking right now.” I was dying to know. I wanted in on every secret. Every thought.
“I’m was thinking . . . about how today’s been nice. Fun. A great distraction.”
I liked that I was a distraction from whatever was bothering her—from whatever was clearly going on with her parents when I showed up at her house. But I wanted to be more than that. So much more it hurt.
“Do you wanna know what I’m thinking?” My gaze dropped to her lips again.
“What?” she asked, a tremor to her voice.
“I was thinking about how you have the most beautiful eyes I’ve ever seen.”
She sucked in a breath. “You’re not looking at my eyes.”
“You’re right. Because I was also thinking about how I should’ve kissed you back there, at the perfume shop. And at my party in the kitchen.” My eyes lifted to meet hers. “And right now. And a million times before.”
She shivered, and I smiled, triumphant.
“Then why don’t you?” she whispered.
“Because it doesn’t feel right. Because I want you to want me.”
Her throat bobbed, and I glanced away from her, clearing my throat in an effort to restrain myself and my wayward thoughts. “You hungry?”
A flicker of emotion clouded her eyes before she nodded, and it took every ounce of self-control to open my car door and get out without pressing my lips to hers. But what I told her was the truth. What if I kissed her now and it was a mistake? Just weeks ago, we were at each other’s throats, quite literally. It took a lot more than a few cordial outings and amicable encounters to convince your enemy you really had raised the white flag of surrender.
And, boy, did I want to surrender to Mia.
I rounded the front of my Jeep until I reached her door and opened it. She clasped her hand in mine, and I led us inside. The wait was short, but I held her hand the entire time as my other one played with a lock of her hair, while she stood immobile, and I wondered if she was as afraid to move as I was, for the fear that it’d break the spell and we’d go back to fighting with each other.
Once we settled into a booth, I sat across from her and leaned my forearms on the table. “Thanks for spending the afternoon with me,” I said, like we had a choice and it wasn’t for the Angel Program. “What would you have done had I not shown up?”
She glanced down at her hands as if she might not answer before she said, “Gone insane? Filed divorce papers for my parents? Languished inside my room all day until Ethan called? All sound like viable options.” She gave a little laugh. “But probably more of what I was doing when you knocked on my door.”
I frowned as my heart squeezed. So the fighting I’d heart wasn’t just a fluke. “Which was?” I murmured.
“Drown myself in music so loud nothing else exists.” Her offered smile turned sad.
“What’s going on with your parents?” When she didn’t answer right away, I continued, “You don’t have to tell me if you don’t want to. I know—”
“So you did hear them.” She closed my eyes, and I could tell by the reddening of her cheeks it embarrassed her. “What am I saying? Of course you heard them. How could you not?” she mumbled.
“How long have they been doing that?”
“They didn’t always fight like that.” She stared off into space, lost in thought for a moment, and I wondered if she remembered a time when things were different—better. “They used to be this perfect couple. Kind of like your parents.”
She swallowed, barely meeting my gaze before glancing away again.
I’d never thought of my parents as being some shining example of what a healthy relationship should look like, but I guess they were. They fought on occasion like normal couples, sure, but all it took was spending a little time around the two of them to see how madly in love they were, how in-sync, how perfectly paired. And I wondered if maybe that wasn’t hard for her to watch.
“Tell me about it,” I said, my voice soft.
