Page 63 of The Backup Plan

Once home, I carry the lamp, the ridiculous cactus, and other bags inside her place. Undeniable proof when she wakes up tomorrow that the day happened.

She lingers by the door with a small smile turning up the corners of her mouth.

“Today was . . . perfect,” she says. “Just what I needed.”

“It was, wasn’t it?” I say, my eyes flickering back to her lips again.

“Thank you for all of it.”

We stand there a beat too long again.

I smile. “Good night, Doc.”

“Night.”

I wait until her door closes before heading across the hall to mine. My chest is tight and my mind is louder than the music at the street party ever was.

This was supposed to be a spontaneous, fun day out with a newfound friend.

Instead, I’m staring after a woman I learned so much more about tonight. A dick of an ex. A dedication to her craft few have but that I understand. A need to do things on her own terms.

A woman I now want to know way more about.

This was supposed to be simple.

Uncomplicated.

It’s already not.

Emery

The door clicks shut behind me and suddenly the quiet of my apartment is too stagnant. Especially after a day filled with noise and laughter and him.

I stand there longer than necessary, my hand still resting on the doorknob, my heart beating erratically like it did back on the street. The music. His body against mine. His hand steady on my waist.

Too steady while my head and heart raced out of control.

God. I close my eyes and drag in a breath as I rest my forehead against the door.

That almost happened.

The realization had been coming slowly during the ride home, but now in the quiet, that singular thought lands hard.

It wasn’t imagined. It isn’t a hypothetical. He leaned in. I leaned in. There was no confusion in it—just want and proximity and a moment where the gravity pulling us together wasn’t one-sided. He wanted it just as badly.

And that’s the part that scares me the most.

Because I wanted to kiss him.

I push off the door and move into my apartment. I’m restless, antsy, needing an outlet and knowing the one I’d most likely choose to use to get it is currently on the other side of the hallway and completely off-limits.

Completely.

Lost in thought, my fingers move absently to my lips. His breath was brushing against them—warm. Familiar already—as if my body had already decided something my brain hadn’t signed off on.

This wasn’t supposed to happen. It was supposed to be full of laughter and sunshine. Proof that I can exist outside of work without unraveling.

But my stomach flipped when he smiled just now. I felt protected and content as he steered us through the crowd.