Page 98 of Fall Love

Neve chuckles. “Always thinking about real estate.”

“But I’m not. I’m thinking about us. About Wren. I want us together. The three of us.” Like a family. “But mainly, I want the two of us. I want more time to learn your smiles and your quirks.”

She gives me a playful scowl. “I don’t have quirks.”

“Of course you don’t. You’re perfect.” I chuckle and kiss her cheek. “And I want to learn all your perfections.”

She smiles wider.

But I sober a little bit. “It isn’t always going to be perfect, Neve. But I want to give us a real shot. Live together. Learn together.” Fall in love.

Although I’ve already fallen.

“Down the well one went, a true love you’ll never forget.”

I won’t forget Neve because she’s right here, in my arms. In our home.

“Let me think about it,” she says, quietly. Not dismissing the idea but being practical about it. “I’d like that, but I need to think about my house.”

“Of course. Maybe when I return from New York?” Maybe we can figure out the logistics then.

She nods, but her eyes lose a bit of their luster.

“Speaking of New York, I’m up for a promotion.”

Neve stops moving, but I keep my hands on her hips to keep her close. “I want you to know, I’m turning it down.”

“What? Why?” she whispers, staring at me with wide eyes.

“Because I want to be here. With you and Wren.”

Her hands slide down my chest. “I can’t ask you to do that.”

“You aren’t asking. I’m telling you, you’re my choice. I want to be here.” I love Lovewell Landing. I always have, and being back here feels like the right decision for me. The right place for me to be.

“Tate, I don’t want you to do that.” She leans back like she wants to pull away, but I won’t let her go.

“Why not?”

“I—” Whatever she wants to say catches in her throat. Or maybe she doesn’t have an answer. Maybe she doesn’t feel the same way I do.

“I want you, Neve. I care about you. I adore you.” I love you. “And I want us to work.”

“Because of Wren?” she questions.

“Because of us. Because of you.” I run my fingers along the edge of her face. “I love how you love pumpkin spice things.”

“You hate pumpkin spice,” she counters.

“And I love how you want to disagree with me but then give in.”

She fights a smile.

“I love how you kiss me, and how you look at me.”

“How do I look at you?” Her scowl is back, like she’s truly concerned.

Like you love me, too. But I won’t put words in her mouth.