He pulls me into his arms and kisses me again. His expression sobers. “I meant what I said, Noelle. Before. About this not being a one-time thing. I want you to know I’m not going anywhere. Not unless you tell me to.”
Warmth that has nothing to do with Webb’s shirt blossoms inside me. “I’m not going anywhere, either.”
And as I look into his eyes, seeing something that looks a whole lot deeper than affection, I almost say the phrase that’s been spinning in my mind for days.
I love you.
I won’t say it. Not yet. But it’s there, just the same.
Breaking the silence between us, my stomach makes a quiet rumble.
Webb chuckles. “I guess we really did work up an appetite.”
“I guess so,” I agree.
“Stay there,” he says as he hops up and hurries into the kitchen. The oven beeps a few times before Webb calls over, “Just heating up the food. Do you think you’ll be okay for ten, fifteen minutes? Or should I get a snack now? I think I’ve got chips, cookies, cut vegetables?—”
“I’ll be okay,” I reply. With a laugh, I add, “No risk of passing out from hunger yet.”
“There are chocolates, too. I got a variety—truffles, cordials, raspberry filled—I wasn’t sure which was your favorite.”
“They all sound amazing, but I think I’ll save them for after dinner. Maybe for while we’re watching the movie.” With a hopeful tone, I add, “And after the movie, maybe we could do this again?”
Webb grins at me from the kitchen. “We can definitely do it again.” As he heads back into the living room, he snags his phone from the kitchen island and taps the screen a few times. “Just setting the timer.”
“Okay.” I pat the blanket beside me. “Come sit with me while we wait. I think I might be getting cold again.”
“Well, we wouldn’t want that,” he says solemnly. “I’ll?—”
But the sound of his phone ringing interrupts him. Webb glances down at it and a moment later, frowns.
“Is everything okay?” I ask.
“Yeah,” he replies. But from the tone of his voice, it doesn’t sound like it. “It’s Rafe. Probably just checking in. I’ll make this quick.”
Iwantto think it’s nothing—just Webb’s friend checking in, or maybe calling with a quick question about Blade and Arrow business. But I also know Indy went to my apartment today, and while I’ve been trying really hard not to think about it, I can’t forget the reason why he went.
Over in the kitchen, Webb talks quietly on the phone. As I watch him, his posture grows tense. His expression darkens. The hand that isn’t holding the phone tightens into a fist.
My stomach sinks.
After a minute or so, Webb ends the call. Then he sets the phone back on the counter and heads over to me. Though I can tell he’s trying to hide how he’s feeling, it’s impossible to ignore the anger banked in his gaze.
Chest squeezing, I ask, “Is everything okay?”
He sits back down beside me and lifts me onto his lap. After a long pause, he says, “We don’t have to talk about this now.”
“Is it about me?”
Webb hesitates again. “Yes. But?—”
“Then I want to know.”
Except I don’t really. I want to stay in this perfect after-sex bubble, and eat Italian with Webb while we watchPhantom of the Opera. I don’t want real life to ruin everything.
Webb sighs heavily. His arms tighten around me. “Indy searched your apartment. What he found… Well. It’s not great.”
I shudder. “What did he find?”
