“Yeah, but I have time to help you clean up. We won’t get busy for a few hours.”
We worked in silence, moving around each other in the kitchen with an ease that shouldn’t have been possible after only a few months.
But somehow it was.
Somehow everything with Chase felt easy.
And natural.
And right.
I was at the sink rinsing a plate when Chase came up behind me, wrapping his arms around my waist and pulling me against his chest.
“Hey, you,” he said.
“Hi, yourself.” I let my head fall back onto his shoulder.
“Thank you for today, for bringing them here andletting me get to know them.”
I turned in his arms to face him. “Thank you for not running away screaming when Benji asked about your sexual history.”
“He was rather thorough.”
“He was Benji.”
“He was protecting you. They all were.” Chase’s expression was soft. “I love that you have that, that you have people who care about you that much.”
“You have Diego. He cares about you.”
“Yeah, I know, but it’s different. You have a whole family.” He smiled. “And I’m part of it now.”
“Apparently. Happy adoption day.” I reached up and cupped his face. “Is that okay?”
“It’s more than okay.”
He kissed me then—soft and sweet and full of something that felt bigger than both of us.
When we pulled apart, he rested his forehead against mine.
“Finn,” he said quietly. “We should talk.”
My stomach dropped.
Those words.
Those terrifying words that always preceded bad news.
People didn’t say that before telling you good things. They said it before breaking up with you or telling you they were moving or—
“Chase—”
He must have read the panic in my eyes because his own went wide.
“No, wait, it’s not—” He pulled back, his hands coming up to swallow my face. “It’s not bad. I promise it’s not bad.”
“Then what—”
“I think I’m in love with you.”
