I chuckled and ran a hand over the lapel of his suit jacket, and then flicked my eyes up to him before signing,Wow.
He smiled and took hold of my hand before placing soft, open-mouthed pecks on the inside of my wrist. “Thank you,” he said, and a slight blush creeped up his cheeks.
I jerked my head to the side, and twined our fingers before walking us to the fireplace.
Myles shrugged off his jacket and placed it on the couch’s armrest, and we then sat down with our backs to it. We stretched our legs out in front of us, and Myles’s eyes widened a little as he looked at the things laid out on the coffee table. “You did all this forme?” he asked.
I’d set the tiny table with a couple cranberry candles, a tall glass of champagne, two small plates of Lofthouse cookies andpavê, and one full of cheese-flavored nachos, because I didn’t have anything savory to offer him.
I nodded in response to his question.
Myles’s expression softened, and he leaned in to press a kiss on my lips. “Have I told you how fucking awesome you are?”
I clicked my tongue and shook my head.
He grinned. “Liar,” he whispered, and then kissed me again.
I cupped the side of his neck to deepen the kiss, and when we pulled back, I gently ran the pad of my thumb over his throat.I then let my gaze wander his frame, his jaw, the three undone buttons of his shirt, and the way the fire cast a shadow over his side profile.
“Hey,” He placed a knuckle under my chin and lifted my face to his. “What’s up?”
You are beautiful, I signed.
He chuckled. “Look who’s talking.”
I rolled my eyes and slapped his hand away.Eat, I signed.
With another grin, he straightened and grabbed a piece ofpavêbefore examining it like it was an artifact or something.
“What’s this?” he asked, and then, put the whole thing in his mouth before I could even answer him.
I stifled a laugh when he moaned while chewing it, and then grabbed the notebook and pen I’d set out on the couch.
It’s called pavê. It’s a Brazilian dessert made out of chocolate, walnut, pecans, bananas, etc. And, for the love of God, do NOT try to pronounce it.
When I showed him what I’d written, he read it quickly before shoving another piece into his mouth.
“I love it,” he said with a mouth-full ofpavê, but it sounded more like: “Ah wuv iff.”
Once he was done, he sipped some champagne and nudged my shoulder. “How was dinner?”
I shrugged.Okay, I signed.
He raised a brow as he grabbed a pink cookie from its plate. “Just okay?”
I asked him to wait, and then began writing in my notebook while he finished his first cookie.
It was hectic. So much random gossip, boring this and that. Avô was happy to see everyone under one roof, but I felt a little suffocated, to be honest. I constantly felt like I needed air, but I couldn’t possibly leave because I had friends whowanted to chat with me, and people I had to serve dinner to. I’m glad it didn’t last longer, or else I’d have lost it completely.
Myles frowned after reading that. “Is it like this every year?”
Not necessarily.
“You could’ve texted me, Rina. I’d have bailed you out.”
I squeezed his free hand.I appreciate it, I wrote.
His frown deepened. “Are you sure you’re okay?” he questioned, and then looked at the coffee table. “God, I’m so fucking inconsiderate. You’ve been running ‘round cooking and cleaning and serving for hours, and I didn’t even think about thatoncebefore stuffing my face like a damn asshole.” He made to place the half-eaten cookie on the plate, but I grabbed his wrist in order to stop him.
