“Do you have a photographer hiding in the wings waiting to snap a picture of us kissing to send directly to Silas?” I ask. “Yes.” I veer back and look around. He cracks a grin and lets out a single heh. “Why didn’t men look like that when I was dating?” an older lady mutters as her date sweeps her past us. Fletcher’s grin turns back into a smirk. “I cannot even imagine how you live with your own ego,” I murmur as I let him pull me closer again, still smiling. “I used to stare at my ’stache anytime I got too full of myself. Now there’s nothing between me being hot and me knowing I’m hot.” This
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