Page 132 of The Great Dating Fake Off
He jerks his head toward Enzo, who sweeps his newly minted bride off the floor and carries her toward the courthouse doors. “Wedding’s over. Happy for them.” His hand closes over mine as he rises to his feet. “But you and I are talking now.”
I’m jittery from all the excitement, but the contact makes my pulse nearly explode. “Okay.”
He tugs me through the pearly white lobby and passes the families—who are all wielding their phone cameras as Enzo and Ro pose for photos—until we hit the double doors. He never releases his hold, even as we tackle the steep Metropolitan Museum-esque stairs that lead to the parking lot.
With everyone still inside, the scene of the future party is briefly quiet, the air abuzz with anticipation.
He guides me to Eloise’s truck and stops right beside it. Our bodies gravitate closer as he traces his thumb down my temple, over my cheek, across my jaw.
I ache for how much I’ve missed being touched by him.
My stomach tap dances as I stare into his eyes. “Are we helping with dinner?”
“Not quite.” He reaches half his body through the serving window and comes out with a bouquet tied with twine.
A tiny gasp springs from my mouth.
“Yellow daisies, orange roses, sunflowers…all the sunny, mismatched things.” He offers them to me. “It’s nowhere near as beautiful as you, but it’s almost as warm.”
“They’re perfect.” I whisper, gathering them close to my chest.
He huffs out a laugh. “The stems are all different lengths, half the sunflower petals are missing, and the roses are wilted. They aren’t perfect. And the next year of our life will be far from perfect, too. But that doesn’t mean it won’t be great, if we give it a chance. I want to make more flower store memories with you, Nora. We haven’t had enough time, and we need so much more. I know this courthouse isn’t a special deli where we first met by fate, and we don’t have an audience, and this speech of mine isn’t as impressive as Enzo’s—”
“I don’t need an impressive display, Sebastian. I don’t need an audience. What I need is you, exactly as you are, right now.” I take his free hand and place it on the space above my racing heart. “You do this to me all on your own.”
He slides his hand from my chest to my neck, his thumb pressing into my pulse. “If it’s not you for me, it’s no one.” His eyes are a bright strike of lightning on a dark night. They are all the sparkling stars in the sky condensed just for me. “This is me trying. I have some things to figure out with work, but I will do whatever it takes to set us up for success. I want you to be mine and I want to be yours as well. And I want to give you the life you want. Here. Let’s do this for real.”
This. Us.
For real.
Joy fills me in a gust. “I was ready to buy a Huskers hat and come see you every month in Nebraska if that’s what it took, and then wherever else. It’s you for me, Rossi. Period.” I wrap my arms around his neck. “Have I earned the right to call you by your last name like your best friends do?”
He’s a wall of warmth as he holds me close. “Wear the name out, babe. Someday it could be yours.”
His lips meet mine in a sweet, soft caress. They whisper the promise of later against my skin. They taste like home. Which, as it turns out, is not always a place you can point to on the map.
For me, it’s a person.
My roots will tangle with Sebastian’s as we grow together, and we’ll be each other’s home.
“There’s one more thing.” He walks backward, watching me intently as he guides me around the side of the boxy truck. “A question.”
A tiny metal bistro table comes into view, complete with two chairs. I’d recognize the setup anywhere—it’s been swiped from the café of my bookstore. A tiny glass vase stands empty in the center, as if waiting for my flowers.
Two glasses of red wine accompany each place setting, glinting in the sunlight.
My brain goes offline. “Wait, when did you do—”
“Nora D’Amato, will you finally go on that first date with me?”
“Now?”
“I don’t want to wait another day. We’ve waited long enough.”
In case my heart wasn’t already full, now it’s ready to burst. “Yes, I’ll gladly go on a first date with you.”
His grin is one for the books. “Your last ever first date, I hope.”
