Page 162 of Arctic Titans of Northwood U: Volume 3

“Romantic,” Seth murmured, and I couldn’t tell if he was mocking me or not.

“This one’s a beach house. Off-season rates.”

“In December?”

“Some people like cold beaches.” I scrolled down. “And this one’s…”

“Damon.” Seth’s fingers tightened on my shoulder. “Stop.”

I stopped, my heart hammering. This was it, the rejection I’d been bracing for.

“I need to think about it,” Seth said. His voice was gentle, which somehow made it worse. “Really think about it. Not just…not with you looking at me like that.”

“Like what?”

He cocked his head as if I should know already. I did. I was getting too damn hopeful, and it was showing.

“Okay,” I said instead. “Take your time.”

Seth moved around the chair and sat on the edge of my bed, running his hands through his hair. “I’m not saying no.”

“But you’re not saying yes.”

“I’m saying maybe.” He looked up at me, and there was something vulnerable in his expression that made me want to cross the room and kiss him until he forgot why he was hesitating. “I’m saying I need to figure out if I can lie that convincingly.”

I nodded. “That’s fair.”

“Is it?” Seth asked. “Or are you going to spend the next three days trying to convince me?”

“Probably both.”

He laughed, soft and tired. “At least you’re honest.”

I wanted to argue, to push harder, to make him see that this could be perfect. But I could also see the exhaustion in the set of his shoulders, the weight of all the hiding and careful planning and constant vigilance.

“Think about it,” I said quietly. “Really think about it. And whatever you decide, it’s okay.”

Seth stood up and crossed to me, cupping my face in both hands and kissing me slow and deep. When he pulled back, his eyes were bright.

“I’ll let you know,” he said. “Soon.”

It wasn’t a yes. But it wasn’t a no either.

“And Damon…” He tilted his head to one side. “You really are gonna be the death of me.”

Chapter Twelve

SETH

He pulled a sleek black car in front of the dormitory building, chains on the wheels leaving a pattern in the one inch of fresh snow that covered the street.

Damon hopped out wearing an elegant black coat and a brown silk scarf, walking around the car to open the door to the back for my duffel and the front door for me.

“And they say chivalry is dead,” I said, sitting into a warmed-up passenger seat and buckling my seat belt.

Damon walked around casually and hopped inside, strapping in before leaning close to me and kissing me on the lips. That was what husbands did, right? They greeted each other with kisses without even noticing they were doing it.

Fuck my life. We were as married as we could be without Nick committing a crime. He had gone home sulkily after I’d spilled a story about a ton of work I had to do at the lab. I tossed out some terminology that Nick couldn’t care less about, some science lingo that bored him, and he rolled his eyes, surrendering. “I get it,” he’d said. “But tell that to Mom and Dad when they leave an empty seat at the Christmas table.”