Page 73 of The Perfect Rom-Com

“Fine. The fact is, nothing has changed. For me.” He puts his hands out. “And everything, it seems, has changed. For you.”

“What?”

“Bryony. How often do we go out to dinner?”

“I don’t know. Maybe . . . once a week.”

“Three. Four if I’m lucky.”

I feel a little zing in my chest with his understated word choices. The way he says “if I’m lucky” as though, well, this is something he hopes for. Waits for.

“How often do we see each other?”

I shrug, my anticipation rising. “Well, every other day or so, I suppose. But we’ve got a lot in common. Work, like on this tour.”

“Which I chose to go on with you.”

“Bowling.”

“Which I signed up for, for you.”

“Mutual friends.”

“Your friends. Your friends whom I’ve made my friends.” He must see the electricity in my eyes and adds, “I’m actually far less needy than you and can exist happily with only two or three important people in my life. All of which proves my point.”

“Which is?”

“That for all intents and purposes, up to this point, we have been dating.”

“What? No, sir.” My ears flame at the boldness of his suggestion. “I think I would know if I am dating someone. And I was dating someone.” I clarify with an indignant air, “I was dating Parker, and I was very loyal.”

“You were indeed. Maybe I should clarify then,” Jack says, and there’s a bemused grin on his face as he looks down at me.

He slows the moment down.

Lets silence rest between us, so that only the sounds of humming HVAC systems and cicadas whisper around. He takes a step toward me. “You weren’t dating me. But I was dating you.”

The world is swirling around me now.

I feel such a rush of confusing emotions at his casual attitude toward this moment, this revelation. Gloria was right. Gran was right. Parker was right. Everyone was right.

“There’s just one little detail I’ve been missing in the past year and a half, and if it’s all the same to you, I’d like to go ahead and capture it and take it home with me.”

My breath is coming shallowly now.

The world spinning around me slowly, not like some swooping roller coaster but like the gentle movement as you sit on a sailboat in a bay. The slow rush of excitement is taking over me, and despite all my plans and goals, despite all my orderly aims, I find myself asking in a whispery breath, “Which is?”

“This.” He closes the gap between us and kisses me, there with the onlooking concrete tortoises and clapping palm trees. His lips brush against my cheek first, sending a shiver up my nerves, and before he even has time to reach my lips I find myself rushing to his.

His kiss breaks into a smile, then a kiss again, as he takes me by the elbows and draws me in, more impatiently now, more eager. Fingers gripping me more protectively now, delight clear in the way he holds me, touches me. Draws his fingertips through my hair. Me. His Bryony.

His girl.

And it feels, well, it feels like home.

Chapter 14

“What are the odds they’ll send a search party out for us?”