Page 51 of A Dangerous Kind of Love

“And I want to be the one who makes you laugh.”

Fuck.

I then do the absolute dumbest thing imaginable. I step forward, wrap my arms around his waist, and hide my face in his shirt that probably costs three hundred dollars.

“Why’d you have to say all that shit?” I mutter.

His head falls back as he laughs. My cheek presses against his chest, and the vibration of it makes my smile break loose before I can stop it.

Traitor.

He lifts my chin and gives me the softest kiss imaginable, and I melt into it. He pulls back and looks at me.

“Kiss me again,” I say.

He doesn’t even hesitate.

“Uno!” I shout, dropping my card onto the pile.

“What?” Luca barks from across the table. “You had, like, ten cards two seconds ago.”

I waggle my eyebrows at him.

“She’s sneaky,” Sarah says, shaking her head.

I glance to my right. Michael is looking at me and smiling. Ten minutes ago his leg brushed against mine under the table. It could’ve been accidental, but I wrapped my calf around his anyway. Neither of us has moved since.

The counter is littered with empty pizza boxes, soda cans, and the chaotic remains of several board games. Over the past several hours, we’ve worked through Farkle, a very inappropriate round of Cards Against Humanity, and now Uno.

Michael glances down at his watch.

“Doll,” he says, looking back up at me, “I think we better get going.”

“What?” The word slips out, and the disappointment in my voice is painfully obvious.

His eyes soften for a second, but he exchanges a look with Luca across the coffee table.

“You know,” Sarah says, leaning forward. “I could drop Luca off wherever he needs to go.”

Luca shakes his head. “That’s unnecessary.”

“I don’t mind,” she says, already sitting up straighter. “Seriously. It’s not a big deal.”

“Katie, let me talk to you for a moment,” Michael says, tilting his head toward my room.

I push back from the table. “Okay.”

We walk down the short hallway, the sound of Sarah and Luca talking behind us. Once the bedroom door shuts, the house feels strangely quiet.

“Doll, I would love to stay,” he says gently, “but I have business I need to get to.”

“It’s Sunday,” I say automatically.

“I know.” He smiles faintly, but there’s regret in it. “Unfortunately my job doesn’t care what day it is.”

“Please,” I say.

I know I sound desperate, but the truth sits heavy in my chest. Falling asleep next to him last night had felt too easy. It was like something I’d been missing without even realizing it, and the idea of him leaving makes the room feel colder.