Page 160 of The Wild Card

“Three toes. Bruised, not broken, but still.”

“Oh my gosh.”

“She was very understanding about it. Said it was an accident. But I saw the way she looked at me afterward.” He shakes his head solemnly. “I’m a danger on the dance floor, Emmie. A genuine menace.”

I’m laughing so hard my stomach hurts. “We are never dancing.”

“Agreed.”

“What if there’s dancing at our wedding?”

The words slip out before I can stop them. I freeze, horrified.

Our wedding! Why did I say our wedding? It’s the first date. The FIRST DATE. Way to play it cool, Emmie.

But Crew doesn’t tense up. Doesn’t pull away. He just looks at me with an expression I can’t quite read.

“Then I’ll take lessons,” he says quietly. “So I don’t break your toes.”

My heart stutters.

“Yeah?”

“Yeah.”

We stare at each other. The moment stretches, heavy with everything we’re not saying.

I snuggle closer to him, tucking myself under his arm. The wine is warming me from the inside, and the string lights are soft, and the stars are scattered above us like a tapestry.

“I like this,” I say.

“The wine?”

“Being with you.” I chuckle.

His arm tightens around me. “I like it too.”

We lapse into comfortable silence. The city hums below us—distant traffic, the occasional siren—but up here it feels like we’re in our own world. Separate from everything. Safe.

“Emmie.”

“Hmm?”

“I’m not good at this.”

I look up at him. “At what?”

“Words. Saying what I mean.” He’s staring at the sky, not at me, and I can see him struggling. “I spent so long not letting myself want things. Not letting myself hope. And now I want—” He stops. Swallows. “I want everything. With you. And that terrifies me.”

“Crew—”

“But I’m done running.” He finally looks at me, and his eyes are raw. Vulnerable in a way I’ve never seen. “I’m done being scared. I want this. I want you. Not just tonight. Not just this week. I want—”

“The whole thing,” I finish softly. “Sunday dinners and Christmas mornings and someone who chooses you every single day.”

“Yeah.” His voice is rough. “All of it.”

I set down my wine glass and shift until I’m straddling him, my hands on his chest, my face inches from his.