I leaned over, pressing my lips to his cheek. The scruff tickled, but I didn’t mind. “Thank you.”
“For what?” he asked, his grip on my thigh tightening ever so slightly.
“For…” I could barely speak around the lump lodged in my throat. “Everything.”
He took my chin between his fingers, dragging my gaze up to his. “It’s no less than you deserve.”
He leaned in, and my pulse quickened. This was it. He was going to kiss me. And he did. Only, he pressed a chaste kiss to the corner of my mouth, bypassing my lips.
If the man was trying to torture me, it was working. I was so keyed up, so full of anticipation, I felt like a bottle of champagne that had been shaken up. If he didn’t kiss me soon, I was going to burst.
When he pulled back, he had a wicked glint in his eyes. He knew exactly what he was doing, but two could play at that game.
“You never told me what I owe you for letting me borrow your hat.”
“Borrow?” he spluttered. “I think you mean steal.”
“Meh.” I waved a hand through the air. “Semantics.”
“Mm. I’m not so sure about that.” He nudged me as the staff came out, bearing trays of dessert.
Everyone received one of two desserts. Frasier’s looked like a key lime pie. And mine was a cup of ice cream with fried plantains and caramel sauce. Both looked equally delicious. He took a bite and groaned.
“You’ve gotta try this.” He held up his fork with some of the pie for a taste.
I kept my eyes on his as I closed my lips around it. The flavors were phenomenal—bursting on my tongue with a zest of citrus and the sweet, creamy filling. “Oh, that’s good. Here.” I held upmy spoon with some of my dessert to give him a taste. It was equally delicious with more of a salty, sweet mix.
I laughed, and when I glanced up, my mom and sister were watching me with smiles on their faces. My sister looked like the cat that ate the cream. But my mom…she was practically glowing with happiness. Even my dad seemed pleased with the idea.
I bit the inside of my cheek and stared down at the table. While part of me felt bad for lying to them about my relationship with Frasier, I could see how happy they were. How relieved they all were that I was living life again.
For the first time since Derek’s death, I felt like they saw me as Bryn—daughter, sister, friend. And not just a widow. It was both painful and a relief. Because I wasn’t the same. And I could never go back to the person I once was—at least, not completely.
But I was coming to accept that, and I only hoped my family could too. And part of that acceptance included finally admitting to myself just how much Frasier meant to me. Not only as a friend, but as something more.
I made a quick, heartfelt speech, congratulating my sister and Kit. Everyone stayed for a while longer, laughing and drinking. At least until Brooke passed out and was carted off to bed. Soon after that, Frasier and I said our goodbyes.
“Oh,” I groaned as we walked down the beach. “I’m so full. But that meal was so worth it.”
“It was delicious.” He linked our hands, gently rubbing his thumb over my wrist. “Has your family said anything about your tattoo?”
“Mom thought it was a beautiful tribute,” I said, brushing some of my hair away from my face. “Allie’s trying to convince me to get a matching tattoo with her.”
He chuckled. “Of what?”
“Who knows? I’m not entertaining the idea. And I should probably avoid playing truth or dare with her again. It would be just like her to dare me to get a matching tattoo with her.”
“I wouldn’t put it past her. She was definitely enjoying the game last night.”
“She wasn’t the only one,” I muttered, thinking of what my sister had told me earlier. “I’m glad we left when we did.”
He gave my hand a squeeze. “I had a feeling things were only going to get even more out of hand. Everyone seemed cool, but I don’t want to get reamed by Coach or PR for something during the off-season.”
Judging from what my sister had told me, Frasier was right about things getting out of hand. One of the bridesmaids had ended up having a threesome with two of the groomsmen. My face heated, and Frasier narrowed his eyes at me.
“What?” he asked.
“What?What?” I practically yelped.
