Page 58 of Heartsmashed
“All right, what about who apologizes first?”
“Me,” I said quickly. When Beckett arched a brow, I added, “I really should just apologize on the daily because of what comes out of my mouth. There’s no excuse for it.”
There, that was the quick version of the apology I’d needed to get out after last night, and with the way his eyes warmed at my words, I knew I was forgiven.
That, and his hand squeezed my thigh under the table before he started on his muffin.
Mama waved a hand. “Wait, I’ve got one. What’s something about each other that surprised you?”
“His dance moves last night surprised me,” I said. “In a good way.”
He chuckled. “Thank you.”
“What about you?” Mom said, turning her focus on Beckett, who didn’t seem affected at all by her directness.
“You don’t have to answer that,” I told him.
He leaned back in his chair, considering the question instead of dodging it. When he answered, his gaze met mine in a way that made it hard to look away. “He makes it easy for everyone else before he does for himself.”
For a second, I didn’t move. Just let his words sink in and penetrate.
Did I do that? Make everyone else comfortable and put my needs last?
Shit… Ididdo that. It wasn’t something I’d ever thought about, but…wow. He’d noticed that about me?
“Yes,” Mama said softly, nodding. “He does.”
I was too caught up in Beckett’s stare, and I could feel my face getting hot.
I cleared my throat and took a sip of coffee, trying to play off how much it meant that he’d clocked that. “Okay. That’s enough of this game.”
“We’re not even playing a game yet,” Mom said.
“Feels like we are.”
Mama waggled her brows. “Not yet.”
“What’s that mean?”
“It means you’ll be happy to hear we’ve decided tonight’s get-together will be a fun, relaxing…couples game night.”
“What? No.”
“Yes, darling.”
“Rome’s not in a couple, how’s that fair?” I said, trying to think of a way to get out of it. Not because I didn’t love a game night, but because I knew it was an excuse for them to ask more invasive questions later.
“He’s the host, of course.”
“Wait, I’ve got one more,” Mom said, tapping her finger lightly against her mug.
“No—”
“Living situation,” she said, ignoring me. “Whose place do you spend more time at?”
I wasn’t good at coming up with answers on the spot, but lucky for me, Beckett didn’t even hesitate.
“His.” He shot me a wink. “He’s got the better coffee.”
