My Rules (Kingston Lane, #2)

by T.L. Swan

“You know, sometimes I wish I didn’t live on Kingston Lane,” he says softly. “You do?” I frown. “How come?” “Because then . . . we wouldn’t be friends.” My eyes search his. “And . . .” He pulls my spaghetti strap back up onto my shoulder. “And what?” I whisper. “And . . . we could have just met as strangers.” Everyone else in the street disappears as we stare at each other. “And I would have asked for your number.”

“What would have happened if I gave you my number?” He thinks for a moment. “You mean when I said before that if we met under different circumstances, I would have asked for your number?” “Yes. If you asked for my number and I gave it to you, what would have happened?” “Then I would have called you that very day, and I would have asked you out on a date that night . . . because I couldn’t have waited one more hour to see you. I would have been nervous before I picked you up, and you would have worn my favorite red dress, and I would have worn your favorite pair of blue jeans.” My heart swells as I listen. “And we would have gone to our favorite restaurant, Little Italy. You would have ordered the beef ragù, and I would have ordered the fettuccine,” he says softly. I smile as I listen. “And we would have drunk a bottle of red wine and ordered dessert, and then by the end of the tiramisu . . . I would have known that you were the one.”

“I don’t need to wait for the tiramisu,” he whispers. My eyes search his as my heart free-falls from my chest. In slow motion, he leans over and kisses me, his lips barely brushing over mine, and huge butterflies swirl deep in my stomach. Oh . . . “Why not?” I whisper against his lips. “Because . . . I already know.”

He takes my face in his hands. “You were never really his.” He kisses me softly. “What makes you say that?” I whisper against his lips. “Because you were always promised to me.” Our kiss deepens. “You only married him so that you could find me.” He takes my face in his two hands as we kiss, and my eyes flutter closed. “I’ve been waiting for you,” he murmurs against my lips. I feel my heart free-fall from my chest. Oh . . .

It was nice nearly knowing you.

“I’ve been dating Rebecca for about four months, and she’s been dating me for two weeks.” “What?” Hannah laughs. “Please explain.” “Yes, Blake.” I laugh too. “Explain this to me as well.” “Well . . .” Blake’s eyes dance with mischief as he sips his drink. “Bec and I have been friends for years, and I decided about four months ago that she was the girl for me, so I stopped seeing other women and began sleeping on her couch at every opportunity.” I smile as my eyes linger on his handsome face. “She, however, took her time and didn’t make a move until two weeks ago.”

The cone of silence. I’ve been here before. The voices are muffled; the thoughts are magnified. But it’s the regrets that are overwhelming.