Vincent’s leaning casually against the car, arms crossed, smiling slyly at me. The popsicle slips from my hand. My heart stutters. What happened to him in these past three months?
He chuckles and steps toward me. His parents, aunt, and Steven—all of them watching, amused—fade into the background.
“No bear-hug for me, Marshall? And here I thought you missed me.”
“I... huh?”
Now he’s right in front of me. “Come here,” he whispers, and then pulls me into his arms.
My cheeks are on fire, and this warm, dizzy feeling rushes all the way up my legs. I grab onto his T-shirt and step onto his Converse, closing the space between us. I hide in his chest and breathe him in like I need it. Like I needhim. Not even when I heard Fleetwood Mac live I felt this way. And until a few minutes ago, I wassurethat was the best moment of my life. Vincent was there with me that night and I had the time of my life with him—but it wasn’t like this. Not even close. This feels different. This feels like heaven. I’m so flustered I can’t even meet his eyes. So I stay right here, hidden against him—hoping he can’t hear how loud my heart is beating.
“Something’s wrong?” He asks.
I shake my head. “I’m fine,”
“Then what’s wrong?”
“I can’t look you in the eye.” I whisper.
He chuckles. “Why not? Am I so ugly—”
“Because you’re so tall! How can anyone be this tall? And where are your glasses?” I pull back just enough to wrap my arms around his chest, though they’re too short to reach all the way.
Vincent smirks and cups my cheeks in his warm hands. “I’ve been growing, Marshall, that’s all. And I switched to contacts.”
When did he learn to smirk like that? When did his voice become so hoarse? Since when is he this tall? Before he left, he was only a little taller than me. I was the taller one when we were younger.
Now his features are sharper, his skin sun-kissed, his freckles darker. His posture radiates confidence. His arms—just a bit more muscular—draw my eyes and refuse to let go.
He’s... hot. How can he be so hot?
But what amazes me most isn’t his body—it’s the way he carries himself. Confident. Playful. Almost flirting. I’ve never seen him like this, and it leaves me speechless.
When his hand rests lightly on the bare skin above my hip, heat flares in my stomach. I squeeze my eyes shut. Then he startles me by kissing the tip of my nose.
“Coop—”
“You look gorgeous, Marshall. I love your new skirt. And your shirt. You look like a nymph.”
I flush scarlet. It’s the first time he’s seen me in something like this. Since he left, my style has changed—I’ve fallen in love with low-waisted skirts, colorful boots, and short tops that flatter my curves. Over the past few months, my body has changed too, and at first, I hated it. I had no clothes that made me feel like my chest wasn’t something to hide.
Then, one day, Aurora dragged me into a thrift shop calledFairy’s IN Shop. I walked out with two bags full of secondhand treasures—and a whole new confidence.
“I missed you,” I whisper, lost in his hazel eyes. His gaze’s so intense it nearly undoes me.
“I missed you too. But—I brought you a surprise.”
He gently sets me down off his shoes and leads me to the car. I clear my throat, trying to compose myself under the watchful eyes of his family. I catch Steven’s expression—somethingunreadable flickering there. Maybe because Vincent greeted me before him?
Then Vincent lifts a basket, and my heart stops. Inside, on a blue-checked pillow, lies a bunny.
My eyes brim with tears. “She’s—oh my God, she’s so beautiful.” Tears spill freely now, and everyone laughs at my reaction.
Vincent brings the basket closer. “You can hold her. She loves being petted.”
I beam, lifting her gently. The bunny snuggles into my chest like it’s her favorite place in the world. “She’s the most beautiful thing I’ve ever seen. You’re keeping her, or did you just bring her to show me?”
“Daisy is yours,” Evelyn says warmly, patting my cheek. “You could co-parent her.”
