Instead, he slipped his arm in mine and walked me to the car without looking back.
After making sure I was safe inside, he buckled his seatbelt and slid behind the wheel.
“Okay, I can see why you didn’t originally include your mother on the stop.” Mr. Reaves moved into the backseat. “Here I was thinking you were hiding something as simple as your fiancée, but whoa. I wouldn’t want to stop by Mom’s if she was into polygamy either. She’s deep into it, huh?”
Nicholas clenched his jaw and put the car in reverse.
“Before you pull off, do you mind if I run in and get a couple slices of apple pie?” he asked.
Nicholas sighed.
“I would also like to trouble your future dads for some hot chocolate, if that’s okay, too?” He leaned forward, pushing his head between us. “That way, I can have something to eat while I ask you a few more questions about this engagement on our way back to Jenna’s parents’ house.”
“I don’t think he’ll mind,” I said to him, feeling Nicholas squeeze my hand.
“Are you sure?” he asked. “I meant to grab some, but?—”
“Just go,” Nicholas hissed. “Hurry the hell up.”
“Okay, thanks!” He bolted from the car and rushed back up the patio steps.
The moment he slipped inside, Nicholas brought my hand to his mouth and kissed it, sending a jolt of heat through me.
“Thank you,” he said.
“For what?”
“Two things,” he said, pressing another kiss against my hand. “Not judging my mom for what has to be the most painful coping of grief I’ve ever seen.” He paused. “And for giving me the perfect excuse to get the hell out of there in less than two hours.”
I smiled. “You’d do the same if it were me.”
“No, I would’ve gotten us out in fifteen minutes.” His laughter made my smile linger. “But I’ll take what I can get.”
He looked at me, leaning closer like he was about to kiss me—for real—but the back door suddenly opened, and the scent of baked apples filled the car.
“Hold on fast there, lovebirds.” Mr. Reaves buckled his seatbelt. “You’ll have to save that until I’m not around. In the meantime, tell me all about your favorite trip you’ve ever been on with Jenna, Mr. Saint.”
“This one…” He muttered before clearing his throat. “It was a year ago, back in Miami.”
He rattled off the story I’d written for him and Laura, then veered into a real trip we’d taken together.
And a foolish part of my heart was wondering if he was still pretending…
Later that night,I lay in the guest bed staring up at the ceiling as Nicholas lay on the floor.
He hadn’t said a word since we returned—save for the “Sure, I’ll help you,” to one of my aunts who needed help grabbing something from the attic.
“Are you awake?” I asked.
“I am.”
“Are you planning to go to sleep anytime soon?”
“Depends on if you let me by not talking.” He let out a low laugh. “Are you planning to do that?”
“I was just going to make you an offer,” I said. “You can come up here to the bed with me if you want to.”
“I’ll pass on that.”
