“Hi,” she says, taking in both of us and our serious tones.
Wilby glances at me, smirks, and blurts out, “Did you know that Cal has money?”
I scoff and give Wilby a dirty look. This dude is a menace. He’s changing the subject and giving me shit.
She smiles then, slow and warm. “There’s a lot I don’t know about you, hot fiancé.”
I groan. “Don’t call me that.”
“I’m going to find out anyway,” she says to me in a teasing voice, eyes twinkling. “You can tell me all of your dark secrets.”
I shoot Wilby a nervous look, and he shakes his head slightly as if to tell me he didn’t tell her what we were talking about earlier.
She reaches for my hand like it’s natural. Like this marriage is already ours.
“Let’s go on a date tonight,” she says. “A pretend date. You can tell me all of your secrets.”
My chest tightens at the thought of taking her out. “Okay.”
Wilby darts his gaze between us and then blurts, “I have to go to a meeting. I’ll be back.”
This has my heart skipping a few beats, eager to be alone with her. Maybe all the chaos overtaking my brain will leave with Wilby.
“Bye,” Silvie calls out to him.
He grabs his bag and heads for the door, muttering something about needing air and therapy.
She bites her lip and admits. “I’m nervous for the wedding.”
“That makes two of us.”
“Do we kiss?” she asks quietly. “I’ve never kissed you. What if it’s weird?”
The question lands between us, fragile and honest, and something in my chest gives way.
Nothing about “kissing” and “Silvie” could ever be weird. That much I know for a fact. She’s sweet and a damn knockout. It’d be my honor to prove just how “not weird” kissing her can be.
I step closer before I can talk myself out of it. Close enough that I can feel her warmth, see the way her breath stutters just a little. I don’t rush. I lift one hand to her waist, steady and sure, like I’ve done it a hundred times in another life. With my other hand, I tilt her chin up so she’s looking at me.
Her eyes search mine. Trusting.Nervous. Wanting.
Then I dip my lips to hers and kiss her.
It starts slow. A brush of lips, barely there, like I’m asking permission with my mouth. She inhales softly, and when she leans into me, that’s all I need. The kiss deepens, unhurried but certain, heat building in a way that makes my pulse kick hard.
She tastes like coffee and sugar and something that’s entirely her. Her hand slides to my shirt, fingers curling around the material like she’s anchoring herself. I tighten my grip at her waist without even thinking about it.
It doesn’t feel strange or foreign, like I’m kissing a stranger I just met. No, it feels a little like coming home, like every moment we’ve had up until this point has brought us to this kiss. And it’s one I won’t ever forget. Nothing about Silvie is forgettable. She makes every moment feel special and fun.
I pull back just enough to rest my forehead against hers, our breaths tangled, my thumb brushing slowly along her jaw.
“Now you know,” I say, my voice lower than I expect.
Her eyes are bright, lips flushed, breath unsteady in the best way.
“Yeah,” she whispers. “I do.”
And I know, right then, that pretending this is fake is going to be the hardest thing I’ve ever done. Nothing feels fake about this at all. And I’m ready to risk it all for her.
