He doesn’t answer. He just steps closer, lifts a hand to my face, and kisses me. A slow, deliberate kiss that I feel deep in my bones. His soft lips covering mine, his tongue gently sweeping inside to find mine. It’s tender and sweet and full of something that makes my heartskip.
When he pulls back, his eyes roam my face. “Sorry. I got caught up in the moment.”
“It’s okay,” I say, and I mean it.
He shoves his hands into his pockets like he needs to do something with the excess energy buzzing off him. “You hungry?”
“Starving.”
His face lights up again. “I’ll grab food. We can celebrate at your place.”
There’s something so normal and sweet about the way he says that word—celebrate—that warmth slides through me before I can stop it. I nod. “Yeah. I’d like that.”
Jake brushes a loose strand of hair behind my ear, gives me a smile that knocks the wind out of me again, and says, “Text me your order. I’ll be there as soon as I can.”
A half hour later we’re on the floor, surrounded by Chinese takeout, my laptop open to a baby-name website as we scroll through endless suggestions.
“What about Emma?” Jake suggests, scrolling through the list like a man on a mission.
“Too popular,” I say. “Every preschool has at least three.”
“Okay…. Olivia?”
“Same issue.”
“You’re very picky.”
“It’s our daughter’s name. It needs to have some personality. Something that makes her sound like she might grow up to win an Oscar or overthrow a government.”
Jake laughs, leaning back on one hand. “Our daughter. I keep saying it in my head.”
“Me too.”
I reach for a spring roll. “What about Margot?”
“I like Margot. Strong, elegant.”
“Or Sloane?”
He adds both to his notes app. “I’m starting a list.”
His dedication to even this somehow makes my heart swoon.
Jake glances at the clock. “I should probably head out.”
He says the words, but his body doesn’t move. And I’m suddenly, painfully aware of how long it’s been since I’ve wanted someone to stay.
“Yeah,” I say. Except my voice betrays how much I don’t want him to.
He hears it. I know he does.
“Or…” I hear myself say, heart thundering in my chest, “you could stay.”
His brows lift slightly. Not shocked. Not smug. Just hopeful.
“Stay?” he echoes.
I swallow hard. “If you want to.”
