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I’m sure there are more things we haven’t talked about, but something he brought up recently is sticking in my mind.
“What are we going to tell our families?”
Our parents have been close since I was six and Garrett’s family moved in next door. We spent holidays together. We took family vacations together.
“Why can’t we tell them what I just told Fiona?” he asks.
“I mean—we could. But they know us. Would they believe that we’ve secretly been in love with each other for years?” I smile, waiting for him to laugh at my joke.
Instead, he swallows slowly. “I think we can convince them. After all, it’s not like we still live at home or anything. We can fake anything for a family dinner or two.”
“It’s not fake. I do love you, Garrett,” I say.
He stiffens and disentangles our hands. What’s that about?
“Love you too, Ames,” he responds. He clenches his fingers that were just wrapped with mine on the steering wheel.
What did I say now?
“Which one of us is going to tell our families?” I’m not looking forward to that conversation.
“Both of us.”
“Both?”
“Yes,” he responds. “It’ll be more believable if we’re both there.”
“O-okay.”
“Relax. Telling them will be easy.”
Yeah, right. “If you say so.”
“They’re our families, Ames. They love us and want us to be happy.”
I shrug. “I trust you.”
“You better,” he responds in a low tone that has sparks igniting in my core. “We’re in this together.”
“Together.” It’s as much a promise to him as it is a reassurance for me. “Ready to put your money where your mouth is, Mr. Harrison?”
“Abso-fucking-lutely, Mrs. Harrison.”
Mrs. Harrison. I like the sound of that.
A lot more than I probably should.
Chapter Five
GARRETT
“Fuck.” The box I’m shoving in my car catches on my new ring and yanks it up to the knuckle.
Dropping the box, I step back and rub at the red skin before shifting the ring back into place. The plain white gold band that wraps around my finger fits like a glove. It’s still a shock to look down and see it there. It’s probably insane that the slight weight feels right, but since getting over the initial surprise, that’s exactly how it feels.
Not like I could tell Ames that.
Mia. I need to get in the habit of calling her that. Although I won’t forget the way she looked at me when she told me she was still Ames when it was the two of us—my Ames. The rush of blood to my groin when she’d said that had been almost as fast as it had been when her eyes had traveled my body.
