“He could be … ours, I mean. If we ... if this ...” For the first time tonight, words fail me.
“If we what?” Lane asks, his thumb tracing circles on the back of my hand.
I whisper, “If we gave this a real try. Not just for Kai, but for us.”
“Nina.” My name sounds different on his lips now. Rougher but somehow also gentle, an urgent yearning.
I quickly add, “I know it’s crazy. We barely know each other and this whole situation snowballed, but?—”
He stands up, still holding my hand, pulling me to my feet and finishes, “But maybe that’s not a bad thing.”
Reality rushes toward me from one side and what my heart secretly wants from the other. Panicked, the former pipes up, “My father made me promise?—”
“Your father isn’t here,” Lane says, stepping closer. “And I’m not him. I’m not my father either. I’m just ... me. Lane. The guy who makes decent hot chocolate, doesn’t know how to be a dad but wants to try, and who can’t stop thinking about you.”
I tip my gaze to meet his. A delirious group of butterflies flutter and fly around my belly.
“I’ve been thinking about us a lot,” he admits, his free hand coming up to cup my cheek. “About the dance before we stepped on that stage with the hypnotist, about the way you felt in my arms during our first kiss. About how right this feels even though it seems like it should be completely wrong.”
“This is happening so fast,” I breathe, but instead of pulling away, I lean in.
Before I can overthink it, before I can list all the reasons this is a terrible idea, I rise on my toes and press my lips to his.
Our New Year’s kiss was fireworks exploding across the Las Vegas skyline. This one is small-town steadiness, deliberate, honest, full of all the feelings I’ve been trying to ignore since the night we met.
It’s cookies and milk, a sweet comfort kind of kiss.
Lane’s arms come around me immediately, pulling me closer, and I can taste cinnamon and vanilla and desire on his lips. When he deepens the kiss, I make a soft sound that I don’t even recognize as coming from me.
“Nina,” he murmurs against my mouth, and there’s something in the way he says my name that makes my knees so weak I could swoon.
But the truth is, maybe I’ve already fallen.
CHAPTER 10
I scoredthe winning goal of an NHL hockey game tonight. I don’t have any pain in my shoulder or knee. Yet, kissing Nina feels better than the two things that have been my primary focus and preoccupation for years.
We pause, mouths drawing apart. We’re both breathing hard. I rest my forehead against hers.
My voice is rough when I say, “Still think this is crazy?”
“Completely bonkers,” she laughs, and the sound is like a music box—warm and tinkly. It’s the kind of laugh that makes me want to spend the rest of my life figuring out how to hear it again, preferably on repeat.
“I can do bonkers,” I tell her, and I mean it.
Leaning back slightly, she smiles. It’s like a sunrise after the longest winter … the one I’ve been living. “So we’re really doing this?”
“We’re doing this,” I say, surprising myself with how certain I sound. “All of it. The marriage, Kai, and whatever comes next.”
“Andwhatever comes next,” she echoes like she’s testing the concept. “I like the sound of that.”
“Even if it’s complicated or difficult?” I ask to be sure.
“Especially if it’s difficult. I’ve used that word repeatedly lately?—”
“Me too.”
“But maybe difficult doesn’t mean bad.” She goes on to describe recipe testing. “I’ve twisted myself in knots with the types of ingredients, the method and order they’re added, the baking time, and rotating the pan in the oven. Sometimes they’re complete flops, others just average. But occasionally, complexity yields the best results. I’m willing to try.”
