“Ha ha.” I shove Noah in the shoulder.
“Noah has a point,” Josh adds. “Remember that time you attempted to grill? Charcoal would’ve been a better description.”
“Hey, it’s the thought that counts, right?” I smile only at Chelsea, as usual, she sticks up for me.
“It is always the thought that counts,” she says. “Even if you do have a tendency to burn things.”
My brothers fall about laughing as I narrow my eyes. Oh, she’ll be paying for that later. That I can guarantee.
Chapter Twenty-Three
CHELSEA
Brad looks like he just stepped off a runway. I mean, this man should be illegal.
He’s also slicked his hair back, and he’s wearing his glasses. He wears contacts most of the time, but those black-rimmed glasses make my insides jump.
As if he knows exactly what I’m thinking, he hands me a fresh champagne. “Had enough to eat? Or are you saving your appetite for later,” he whispers close to my ear.
“You’re a very bad man,” I say, taking the glass from him with thanks.
“Bad? That isn’t what you were saying last night, in fact, if I recall it was‘Oh, Brad, don’t stop, right there’—”
I thump him on the arm, looking around to make sure nobody heard. “Bradley! We’re at a party, with your family standing three feet away.” There’s music playing, so granted, nobody probably heard anything.
“Let them talk. When can I tell everyone you’re mine?”
My heart skips a beat. “So, we’re really doing this?”
He gives me a look. “Yes, we’re really doing this, and Deaton is gonna be fine, trust me.”
“I do trust you.” I glance down at my shoes.
“What’s wrong?”
“I have a confession.”
He raises his eyebrows. “Do tell.”
I sigh. “It’s just… I’ve liked youmore than a friendfor a while now… and… I just can’t stop thinking about… well… how much time we’ve wasted not being together.”
His face softens. “You really do overthink everything, don’t you?”
I shrug. “I’m a mom. I have this horrible tendency to overthink things and give myself a migraine.”
“So don’t do that.” He tips my chin up. “We’re okay. It might be a little late to say this, but we can take things as slow as you want?—”
“That’s just it, Brad,” my voice quickly lowers. He takes my arm, ushering me outside so we can talk without prying eyes and music. We find a bench on the far side of the patio.
“What’s just it?”
“I’ve had my bearings my whole goddamn life, and I don’t want to take things slow, I want to make up for all the lost time… granted it wasn’t really lost time… we were friends, we hung out… but we never didthis.And it feels so good. I’m worried because I feel too much, and I don’t want to pressure you because five minutes ago you were a bachelor who liked his freedom…”
He reaches for me, pulling me closer. “You’re so cute when you’re all muddled, and my bachelor days don’t even compare to this. I know what I want. I’ve always known deep down.”
“Brad, people will see.”
“So? Let them see. I’m tired of hiding it. My family already suspects it anyway. I love you, Chels — I’ve always loved you. I want to scream it from the rooftops.”
