HIM: Fallon had the baby?
HER: Yes! Lila is perfect. I know people say babies are just little blobs who don’t look like anyone, but I swear she’s all Fallon.
HIM: I don’t envy Parker raising another Fallon.
HER: He’s already wrapped around Lila’s pinky, just like he’s wrapped around Fallon’s.
HIM: I wish them luck.
HER: I can hear the sarcasm in those words from miles away.
HIM: Name one relationship, one you know personally, that’s survived this world unscathed?
HER: Rafe and Sadie.
HIM: They’ve barely been together.
HER: Ten years.
HIM: Well, it’s about time for the fireworks, then.
HER: True love exists, Fireball.
HIM: If it exists, you deserve to find it, darlin’. Just make sure it stays the hell away from me.
PRESENT DAY
By the time I finally draggedmyself out of bed to get ready for work the next day and made it into the kitchen, I found Beckett making an omelet.
My head was pounding, an incessant throb that pulsed behind my eyes, and it wasn’t just because I was slightly hungover. It was because of whatI’d done last night—what we’d almost done last night—and because of the hint of a promise Beckett had laid down.
I’d always thought Hope was a deadly bitch. She could send you soaring, hinting at unparalleled joy, only to flip the switch and taunt you with the agony of defeat.
I wasn’t sure I’d survive the hope of having Beckett and then having it torn away. I wasn’t sure what would be left of me if we slipped into something more but never quite reached the happily ever after I truly craved.
But then again, maybe I’d made the entire encounter up in my tequila-filled brain.
As if to contradict my unspoken thoughts, Beckett intercepted me on my way to the refrigerator for my lunch bag. Knife in one hand, a dripping tomato in the other, he still managed to lean in and press a kiss to the top of my head.
“Morning, my Maisey-girl.”
And the nickname he’d always called me took on an entirely new meaning this morning, as if he actually believed the “my” as much as I did.
My breath evaporated, and I forced myself to step away from him before I made matters worse by doing something stupid.
“You’re dripping.”
He glanced down at the tomato and walked it back to the island. He set it down, wiped his hands, and then met me near the back door, where I was assembling all the items I needed for work. He took my bag from my hand, grabbed my elbows, and tugged me to him.
My heart skipped a beat or two too many, leaving me a bit breathless.
“Just so we’re clear,” he said, “last night wasn’t a drunken hallucination or an alien taking over my body. I meant everything I said.”
“I’m not sure I understood what you said.”
Amusement twinkled in his eyes. “I know. I was surprisingly unclear for me. I want us to be more than friends, Maisey. I don’t know what that means fully. I just know I like it when I come home and you kiss me.”
He leaned in and kissed my forehead. The sweetness of it didn’t make it any less sexy. My body flamed at the touch, and maybe knowing there was a possibility of us taking it further, of finally giving in to the chemistry flaring between us, was what made it burn hotter than ever before.