“Yeah. You?”
“Better than okay.” He kisses my temple. “But don’t kick me out of your bed, please. I’m fucking wiped.”
Panic spikes. I want him here, I do, but do we go back to pretending after this? “We have Thanksgiving tomorrow.”
“It’ll be fine.” He yawns, draws me closer, and we kiss slowly until what starts tender becomes heated. “Wait,” he mumbles against my lips. “No, let’s go again. Great idea.”
I playfully shove at his chest, then snuggle in beside him. My phone vibrates on the nightstand, my mom’s name lighting up the screen. I ignore it, breathing him in.
I know this is reckless. Know I’m setting myself up for heartbreak. But lying here in his arms, his heartbeat steady against my ear, I can’t bring myself to care. We’ve broken every rule. No kissing. No sex. No feelings. All of it shattered, because I couldn’t stay away from him, and this small slice of hope filled my chest that maybe it’d be differentthis time.
Just for tonight, I’ll let myself have this. I’ll let myself believe he means it when he says he’s not going anywhere.
Tomorrow, I’ll go back to being careful.
Chapter 19
Jack
“Hey, you’re in my bed, Jack.”
I grin into the pillow. It’s soft and smells like vanilla and books and Izzy.
All of my favorite things.
“Come here.” My voice is rough. We didn’t get much sleep last night, but ask if I care. I don’t. Not one fucking bit. Not even a little.
It was perfect.
I reach out, my hand frustratingly only met with air. “Where are you?”
“I’m not going to make it that easy.”
“Do you ever?”
Izzy giggles. “You’re going to feel like an asshole for that comment as soon as you open your eyes.”
I’ve woken up in plenty of beds. But I’ve never been in one I didn’t want to leave.
I crack open one eyelid, making out her blurry figure at the foot of the bed and dancing orange flames. What the?—
“Happy Birthday, Jack.”
I wipe my eyes, roll onto my back, and push up to myelbows, where I’m met with what might be the most beautiful thing in the world. Second, of course, to seeing her last night when I showed up at her door.
Izzy’s holding a tray with a stack of giant pancakes on a pastel porcelain plate, three blue candles burning bright, and a steaming cup of coffee.
“You’re…” I don’t finish that thought. Can’t. Not when my eyes scan her body and take in my white button-down hanging off her shoulders, nothing but bare legs underneath.
“I know it’s a little late.”
“We never… you didn’t…”
“Knew you’d feel like an asshole.” She flashes a crooked grin. “But don’t make me feel like an asshole too. You thought I wouldn’t want to celebrate your thirtieth birthday with you?”
I figured it didn’t matter much. But that truth might hurt her, because it seems like after last night, we can’t keep many more secrets between us.
“Didn’t think it mattered much.”
