Page 96 of To All the Guys I Loathed Before
“Do you love me more than your Rubik’s cube?” I say.
“I love you,” he murmurs as we spin slowly on the dance floor, “more thanNessa.”
My smile is soft but quick, because I know what it means for him to love anyone more than his niece.
The first time he told me he loved me, I panicked, and he could tell immediately. He grinned and backed off.
The second time, I was the one who said it. It came out easily, naturally, like the sun from behind the clouds; I didn’t think or contemplate before hand.
But those words are safe with Roman.I’msafe with Roman—all of me. The good and the bad, the sweet and the ugly. He wants everything, and I want to give him everything. I don’t want to keep anything back.
Not anymore.
“Should we hit up the snack table?” he says now, and the question pulls me from my thoughts. My smile grows.
“There’s good stuff. And look—Police Chief Billingsley is there, too.” Bert’s mustache twitches as he hovers by one of the long banquet tables, eyeing the tray of sweet pork, his dress shirt stretched dangerously tight over his large paunched belly.
“Well, that settles it,” Roman says with a grin as he lets go of my waist and wraps his hand around mine instead. “We never thanked him, did we? For his part in bringing us together?”
“We didn’t,” I agree. “And speaking of that—if we’re going to get married and have kids at some point, we should agree on a story ahead of time.”
Roman quirks one brow at me.
I shrug. “No way am I telling our impressionable future children that I met their father in a holding cell.”
He just laughs, and I do, too. Because I can see my future in that sound.
And Roman and I? We’ll make the best of every second.
