“Okay,” I say.
“Hand-holding…” She pauses, cheeks coloring. “Maybe. If needed.”
“If needed.”
“Arm around me only if Jeremy or one of his people is there.”
I nod.
“No kissing.”
My eyes cut back to hers.
Her cheeks go darker, but she holds my gaze.
“No kissing,” I repeat.
“Not for pretend.”
The last three words land between us.
Not for pretend.
My pulse kicks.
Her lips part slightly, like she realizes what she said at the exact same time I do.
I could make a joke.
Should make a joke.
The old me would. The easy me. The mouthy bastard who keeps everything from getting too close by turning it crude.
I don’t.
“No kissing for pretend,” I say.
Her throat works.
“And if I panic?”
“Then we leave.”
“Even if everyone is watching?”
“Especially then.”
Her eyes shine, and she looks away. “You keep saying the right things.”
“Terrible habit. I’ll try to stop.”
That gets me a small laugh.
Then August yells from the bedroom, “Derby, Sophie says your sheets are scratchy.”
I close my eyes.
Amelia laughs for real this time.