Page 69 of Kiss Me Like You Mean It

His hand comes down on my shoulder in a comforting thump.

‘Thanks,’ I manage a laugh.

‘If you want my advice…’ Luke says, after a moment.

‘I genuinely do,’ I agree. ‘At this point I’m desperate.’

He tips back the last of his beer. ‘You and Lee… I can see it. I think your feelings for her are stronger than you’re letting on, maybe than you’re admitting to yourself, and if there’s a chance you could have something real then you shouldn’t throw it away. That shit is hard to find, trust me.’

‘So you think I should tell her how I feel?’

‘No. I think you should work out how you feel and be really fucking sure. Because if you don’t think you can offer her the relationship she wants then you’re right – you’re just going to hurt her. And I think you’ll hurt yourself, too.’

‘Shit,’ I sigh. ‘I think that’s actually good advice.’

And I hate it.

‘I need to keep things as they are,’ I say slowly. ‘Protect the friendship. Not complicate the situation any more than it is already.’

‘I’d say that’s a good starting point.’

‘I need to keep my hands to myself.’ I close my eyes.

‘Unless you’re fake kissing her in front of your dead dad’s lawyer?’

I groan. ‘Fuck. This is going to be hard.’

‘That’s what she said?’ Luke nudges me with his elbow, and I understand this is a gesture of manly affection, which I truly appreciate.

‘Thanks for your help,’ I say, putting the empty beer bottle down by my feet. ‘But now I need another favour… I told Lee I was coming to pick up your mum’s car so I can’t exactly go home without it.’

Luke gets to his feet and slaps me on the back again.

‘Give me a ride over to my mom’s then. I’ll drive it to your place and then you can drop me back here.’

‘I appreciate it, man.’

‘Hey, what are friends for if not arranging transportation for their friend’s fake wife who their friend definitely has real feelings for?’

Chapter Twenty-Two

Lee

The next three days pass quietly. I spend the mornings in Bean & Gone, catching up on some work but often getting distracted talking to Kat, and sampling items from her extensive coffee menu. (She makes me an iced blueberry latte that is so good, I swear I hear angels singing.)

Yesterday afternoon I attended a meeting of the craft club with Magda, which was actually really nice, even if my crocheting skills are going to need work. When I came home exhausted from a day of socialising, Nico took one look at me and knew exactly what I needed – an evening spent crashed out on the sofa watching home improvement shows together in comfortable silence.

By some unspoken agreement, Nico and I haven’t talked about the kiss, and I think it’s for the best. We’ve been having lunch together every day, with Taco acting as chaperone, and he’s made enough comments about how great it is to have a friend from home around that the message has been received. Loud and clear. I’ve made a concerted effort to keep all the lustful/objectifying thoughts to a minimum, and that’s been mostly going fine. Mostly.

(There was a rough moment yesterday where he took his jumper off, peeling his T-shirt up with it, and I caught a glimpse of his taut stomach and a set of ridiculously defined abdominal muscles, but I put that image firmly out of my mind and it hasn’t haunted me at all.)

The thing is, I genuinely enjoy being with Nico. I always have. Over the past couple of days, I’ve found myself opening up – about my job and the travel involved, Tara and the book group – and he’s shared with me about the first weeks settling into town, getting to know Phoebe and the work he’s done on the inn.

Getting to know him is my new favourite hobby. I thought I already had him all figured out, but this version of us – open, honest, learning about the lives we’ve built – feels different. Nico has a way of making even the smallest detail about me feel important.

‘What do you mean you’ve never changed a tyre?’ he asked on Tuesday, his tone outraged.

‘I have breakdown cover!’