A smile dances across my lips. “We had breakfast, actually. Pancakes and smoothies.”
That gets Lincoln to smile, too. I like it. “Oh…?”
I tiptoe past him, entering the living room. His pillows and blankets are a tangled mess on the couch. I eyeball them, silently wishing he’d come upstairs and make a tangled mess in the bed with me.
Instead, he hurriedly shoves the linens aside to make space for me. I chuck my purse and jacket onto the arm of the couch, and take a seat.
Lincoln proceeds to ask me a thousand and one anxious questions about my dinner with his ex-wife. I humor him, because I can only imagine what it’s like to be in his position.
Cameron is his number one priority, so naturally, ensuring that there’s no beef between his son’s mother and his future wife is a pretty big deal.
But I’m mindful of girl code, careful not to spill any sensitive details of my discussion with Cynthia. I tell Lincoln just enough to put his mind at ease.
When he’s satisfied with all my answers, he flops against the couch, letting his head drop against the wall behind him. I do the same, and we both stare across the room in silence.
His neck cranes slightly so he can look at me. “And you?” he asks softly. “How are you? How have you been?”
“Huh?” I mumble, genuinely confused.
His eyebrows furrow. “I know all this shit that’s going on has to be taking a toll on you, too.”
I can’t lie—Lincoln’s concern takes me off-guard.
I’m not too used to people giving a fuck about my well-being. For most of my life, I’ve felt like an inconvenience, a responsibility. To the adults who took care of me, the goal was always ensuring my survival. For as long as I can remember, my comfort and contentment have always taken a back seat. Whenever I was struggling, I learned to just keep it moving and suck it up.
But here is this handsome man, waiting patiently for a status report on my well-being.
I lift my shoulders, then let them fall. “Hey, we both know what we’re doing and why we’re doing it. That’s all that matters.”
He nods thoughtfully. Then, he pushes a heavy breath past his lips. “Can you believe the wedding is in two days?”
My stomach clenches at the reminder. “Crazy…” is all I can manage through my tight throat.
He softly nudges my arm with his elbow. “You still onboard with all of this?”
I swallow, pushing down the ball of anxiety in my throat. “I’m onboard.”
“You sure?” His worried frown returns, and it’s doing things to me that it shouldn’t. It melts me in ways I’d never admit.
Trying to lighten the heaviness in the room, I nudge him in return. “Wait—are you the one getting cold feet, Mr. Button-Up?”
He doesn’t smile. In fact, his frown only deepens. “I just don’t want you having regrets about this down the line.”
My chest flutters. But I won’t let him see how deeply his words affect me. Most of the time, people don't seem to give a damn how their actions impact me.
Pretending to be annoyed, I huff out a breath. “What’s with the concern all of a sudden?”
Lincoln makes a grumbly sound in his throat. “Look, Jules—I…I care about you. All right?”
Everything stops.
Fades.
Crumbles.
And now, Lincoln Raines and his pretty blue eyes are all I see.
“Can I kiss you?” he rasps out, his stare lingering on my mouth.
