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The living fossil across the coffee shop takes a bite of that buttery, flaky croissant, and I want to fight him for it. Put us in an arena to battle for the last one. I bet I could beat him. Or maybe not. He has a hint of muscle under that brown sweater vest.
We are microscopes versus telescopes. Smiles versus scowls. Warm versus frigid. Was there ever a chance for us to find common ground?
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I try and fail to stifle the loud, hearty laugh that barks out of me, and the whole room goes quiet. Probably everyone in the entire museum is frozen, mouths wide-open and hands midair, like they’re so shocked by the sound that they have no idea how to handle it.
The green beans weren’t a hit tonight. Apparently, I cooked them too long, and in Eloise’s words, “They tasted like the sandbox at the playground.” I made a mental note to keep an eye on her the next time we’re at the park because I had no idea she was tasting the sand.
I nod in a daze, startled by the sincerity and concern in his tone. It’s true. I apologize way too much, but sometimes when I say “I’m sorry,” what I actually mean is “I’m sad for you.”
“I’ve been wanting you since I saw you in that elevator the very first time,” he whispers. “Then you came here and lit up our house and our life, and I think I’m addicted to it.” His grip on my knees tightens, like he can’t help it.
“Do you know how jealous I was?” I scoff. “You aren’t je—” “Hell yes, I was. You feel like mine, and the thought of you with someone else was driving me out of my mind.”
Millie: I call the mug that says, “My favorite child got me this.” Tess: Too bad, I already ordered it. Dad: This will go down in history as your mother’s most beloved day: when her daughters battled to be the favorite.
“Oh, Millie. I don’t want what friends do. I want much more than that with you.”
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“I have no doubt that if you saw him or had to talk to him, you could stand up for yourself all on your own. But if it makes you more comfortable, I could come with you the first time and be your cheerleader. Or your bodyguard. Or your coffee-cup holder while you punch him. I’ll be anything you want.”
His face is a portrait of desire, and I file it away under “Man who intends to kiss a woman until she forgets her own name.”
“We aren’t very good at being just friends. I drew a line, and we weren’t supposed to cross it.” “Millie.” He rubs his thumb gently over the seam of my lips, then his fingertips move along my jaw, under my ear, and envelop the side of my neck. “Pretty sure I was erasing that line as you were making it.”
As I kick us closer, I spot some pink on Millie’s shoulders, even though I saw her apply plenty of sunscreen. I only watched to make sure she covered everything. For sunburn prevention. No other reason at all.
“Yes. I brought you here to show you the stars and kiss you until you forget them.”
She tries to summon a stern look of fire and steel, but it doesn’t work on me. In my eyes, she’ll always be sunshine and wildflowers.
