Play Along (Windy City, #4)

by Liz Tomforde

“How lucky is she to have two boys who love her as much as you and your brother do. And how lucky are you,” Kennedy continues, her knee nudging mine, “to have a mom you love so much you still miss her all these years later.”

“Grief seems like a privilege, in a way,” she says. “To have loved someone so much that you can’t imagine life without them. I’ve never felt that.”

“So you do think I’m cold?” I let out a slow breath. “Yeah, maybe I do. But I don’t think that’s wrong or bad or something that needs to be fixed. It’s part of your personality. You’re a little reserved. A bit hesitant towards people.” I take her hand in mine and she doesn’t resist for a moment. “But it also feels like I won the fucking lottery knowing you’re no longer hesitant towards me. I like that you’re a tough one to crack, because when I say something stupid and get to see you smile, I know it’s only for me. And that smile, it’s all warmth.”