She sighed, leaning slightly into the counter. “Nervous,” she admitted. “But . . . good. Excited. Scared. All of it.”
I reached out, slow enough to give her time to pull away, fast enough that I didn’t chicken out. My hands slid around her waist, settling there like they belonged.
She melted into me.
Not dramatically, just this subtle softening, her shoulders dropping, her breath easing out against my chest. Like being held was one of the few places she could stop bracing for impact.
“You’re going to be great,” I murmured into her hair. “You really are.”
Her hands lifted, curling against my back. “You think so?”
“I know so.” And I meant it.
She tilted her head up, and that was all it took.
I dipped my forehead to hers first, just a breath, a pause, a question, then kissed her.
And the world stopped. Again. Like it always did with her. I wanted more. God, I wanted so much more. Which is why it wasexactlythe perfect moment for?—
“GROOOOSS!”
We jerked apart.
Leo was standing in the doorway, covered in grass stains and joy, and Ava was beside him, holding a clipboard like she was documenting our crimes.
“We’re going overthere,” Leo announced, pointing toward the other house. “I need my art set. We’ll be right back.”
Ava nodded solemnly, as if confirming this was official business.
Eleanor flushed beautifully. I rubbed a hand over my face.
“Okay,” I said, trying not to laugh. “No running.”
“No promises,” Leo called back, already sprinting. Ava followed, more controlled but equally determined. We watched them go, the screen door banging shut again.
Eleanor exhaled, half-laughing. “So much for romance.”
I slipped my hand back into hers, gave it a squeeze, and said quietly, “It’s still there.”
And she smiled, soft, shy, world-stopping in its own way. “Yeah, it is.”
After Ava and Leo had been deposited safely at Becca’s, and the car door shut, it was just Eleanor and me.
She sat in the passenger seat quietly. Too quietly. Her hands rested in her lap, thumbs picking at the edges of her nails the way she did when she was holding too much inside.
I glanced over as I pulled onto the road.
“You ready for this?”
She didn’t look up. “Ready as I’ll ever be.”
So I slid my hand over and took hers.
Then she turned her hand and held mine with both of hers, squeezing like she needed the anchor. The blue streak in her hair caught the sunlight coming through the window, and for a second, I forgot how to drive.
“You’ve got this,” I murmured, thumb brushing her knuckles.
Her voice was small but sure. “Thank you.”
