“What was what?”
“That look. Between you and Simon.” I poked his chest. “I saw it. Don’t play innocent.”
Jack smiled. That slightly smug smile that meant he knew exactly what I was talking about and was enjoying my interrogation. “What look?”
“Jack Specter, you are a terrible liar.” I crossed my arms. “What was that about?”
He sighed, but he was still smiling. “Simon watched me pine for you for seven years. He’s just… surprised, I think. That we actually found our way back to each other.”
Something in my chest went soft. “You talked to Simon about me?”
“I talked to a lot of people about you. Mostly complained. Sometimes pathetically.” His hands found my hips, pulled me closer. “You were very hard to get over.”
“Was I?”
“Impossible, actually. I tried. Multiple times. Complete failure.”
“Poor Jack Specter. Unable to move on from the girl who got away.”
“She didn’t get away.” His voice dropped, serious now. “She came back. And I’m not letting her leave again.”
He kissed me again—slower this time, sweeter, the kind of kiss that tasted like promises.
“I’m not going anywhere,” I whispered against his mouth.
“Good.” He kissed me once more. “Because I already bought the ring.”
I pulled back so fast I nearly gave myself whiplash. “You what.”
“Nothing. Ignore that. I said nothing.”
“You said you bought a ring.”
“Did I?” He was trying very hard to look innocent and failing spectacularly. “Must have been thinking out loud.”
“Jack—”
“Come on.” He grabbed my hand, started pulling me toward the exit. “Let’s go celebrate your interview. I know a place with excellent pasta and good wine.”
“We’re not done talking about this.”
“We’re absolutely done talking about this.”
“You can’t just drop ‘I bought a ring’ and then pretend you didn’t say it!”
“Watch me.”
But he was grinning, and I was grinning, and somewhere between the elevator and the parking garage I forgot to be annoyed because I was too busy being happy.
My grandmother would have approved.
CHAPTER 20
Pauline
I wokeup to a wet nose pressed against my face and the distinct sensation of being stared at by something that desperately needed to pee.
“Meatball,” I mumbled into my pillow. “It’s six in the morning.”
