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“Did it? Sweetheart, you can’t ever cry again in front of Cole. Not even happy tears. He’ll put my head on the wall.”
I giggle. “Aw, he’s not so bad. He didn’t start brandishing his Navy knife or anything.”
“Not yet,” he says dryly.
“Shepherd, he gave you his freaking blessing. That’s massive.”
He glances down at the top of my head and studies me. “Is he always like this?”
“Wanting to skin my boyfriends alive? Yeah, pretty much. And you’re the first one I’ve ever brought home.”
Honestly, my other dates were only that. Never boyfriends.
Boyfriend, boyfriend,boyfriend.
The word feels equally alien and spectacular when I just want it to feel real.
Somehow, though, it also doesn’t quite feel permanent.
Will boyfriend always be enough to contain what he means to me?
This is so much more than a fickle high school relationship or a steady college guy with an expiration date.
It’s bound by real emotion, tears and tragedy and drama and even a little blood.
It’s like calling an old giant sequoia tree a shoot.
Still, I love how his hand tightens around mine, and his thumb does that thing again, caressing my skin.
Tingles.
The man makes me a human lightning rod, and he’s the only storm I’ll ever need.
I haven’t told him how much I like it, how much it makes my stomach swoop, but I’m sure he knows.
And I wouldn’t change anything about it for the world.
“It went well,” I repeat again, papering over the moment just in case he feels as weird about ‘boyfriend’ as I do. “Trust me. Give it a few months and you’ll be best friends.”
“You’re full of it.” Shepherd snorts. “He doesn’t even like me.”
I hold up a finger. “Doesn’t like youyet. But he doesn’t hate you. You have to do something really atrocious to lose Dad’s trust. Once you’re in, you’re in. Plus, I’m sure this is only a conversation you’ll ever need to have once. He basically said you’ve got the green light to go ahead and m—” I stop right there.
I wasn’t really about to saymarry me, right?
Because that would be preposterous.
Totally. Bonkers.
We’re just easing into the reality of us with all its quirks and kisses and little spats over where to go for dinner. I shouldnotbe imagining myself in a white dress right now.
I shoulddefinitelynot be imagining Shepherd in a tux, casting his eyes down like he’ll spend the rest of his natural life devouring me.
Oh, God.
He looks good enough to eat even in this goofy fantasy.
My phone chimes with an alert. I pull it out and see a link from Meghan with her latest video.
