Page 49 of Unlikely

“If it means the night doesn’t have to end, yes,” I answer honestly.

“The night doesn’t have to end,” she assures me. “But we’re not going back to my place.”

I don’t know why, but this prompts me to ask a self-indulgent question. “Did you tell them you were on a date?”

“Remy knows,” she replies. “Because I borrowed his car for the occasion.” As if sensing I’m searching for an ego boost, she adds, “But he knew about you before that too.”

The moment is interrupted by the server silently placing the bill on the table. I stretch to reach for it, but Clementine swipes it out from under me.

“What are you doing?” I ask.

“Paying,” she answers, as if it’s the most obvious thing in the world.

“But I asked you out.” I almost leap up off the chair to take it out of her hand.

She maneuvers it away from me. “Is that a rule I should know about?”

“Kind of.”

“Meh.” She shrugs nonchalantly. “Rules are meant to be broken. And if I recall, you paid for drinks that night, did you not?”

“Doesn’t change that I invited you to dinner.”

She signals to the server that she’s ready for her return. “You can pay next time.”

Her statement shuts me up quickly, and the well-pleased look on her face tells me she knows it. “Fine,” I concede. “Next time it is.”

It only takes us a few more minutes to finalize the bill and then walk outside into the cool night. The sun has completely set, the crescent moon now big and bright in the sky. We’re standing on the sidewalk when Clementine surprises me by turning to face me. She places her hands on my hips, in a move that’s bold for her, and brings me closer to her.

“Can I take you somewhere?” she asks softly.

I raise my arms and link them around her neck. “I think I made it clear, I’ll do anything to prolong the evening with you.”

“So that’s a yes?”

When I nod, her eyes dart between mine as she raises her hand to my cheek. Tilting her head ever so slowly, I don’t anticipate the gentle press of her lips against mine. It’s unexpected, but welcome, and over much too quickly. As she nervously pulls away from me, I hold her gaze expectantly, giving her the permission and encouragement she doesn’t need yet wants all the same.

Our mouths move toward one another at the same time, her hand sliding around to my lower back, pressing me into her. It feels so good to be this close to her again, my body against hers, my lips reacquainting themselves with the touch and taste of her. My body hums at her increasing confidence, happy for her to lead, happy for her to take exactly what she wants.

“I’ve been thinking about that for so long,” she murmurs against my lips. “So, so long.”

My lips eagerly return to hers, echoing the sentiment, letting her know I, too, can’t get enough. It isn’t until we hear the voices of people passing us on the sidewalk that reality slowly starts to creep in.

“Let’s go,” she breathes. “Otherwise, we’ll be standing here with my mouth stuck to you all night.”

There are definitely worse things, but I understand her point. Releasing our hold on each other, I slide my hand in hers and let her lead me to her car. As usual, I took an Uber, only for Clementine to find out and be irritated. I didn’t tell her because I didn’t want her to feel obligated to drive to the restaurant together.

My body comes to a halt when we reach Remy’s car. “Um, Clementine?”

“I know, I know,” she says, reading my mind instantly. “Don’t ask me questions I can’t answer, but it’s his.”

I make a show of zipping my lips closed, despite the hundred and one questions I want to ask her. We climb into the Range Rover, putting our seat belts on as she starts the car. I reach across the center console, placing my hand on her exposed leg. Her skin is warm as I graze my fingertips up and down her inner thigh, loving the goosebumps that follow.

It’s a comfortable quiet as she pulls out of the parking spot and drives us to whatever it is she has in mind, eventually placing her hand on mine and slotting our fingers together.

“Is Raine the reason you moved to L.A.?” she asks, breaking the silence.

The answer is yes––easy and simple. But it’s not really the whole truth, and I don’t think it’s really what she’s asking me. Licking my lips, I find myself stalling, remembering a time in my life when I made the choice to follow my daughter, because I wanted to leave where I was more than I wanted to stay.

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