Page 100 of Kiss Me Tonight

“So, what do we do then?”

A month ago, I ran. I ran all the way from California to Maine, hoping I’d find some semblance of normality in a tiny town situated on a strip of beachfront property. I don’t think what I’ve found comes close to being normal, but running again means leaving Levi, and for the first time in my life, I don’t want to see myself out the door.

It’s not love.

I don’t know what love is. But Levi feels like safety and the biggest adrenaline high I’ve ever encountered, all rolled into one.

So I’m not going anywhere.

I settle my hat back on my head, squaring off the brim, and then fold my arms over my chest. “We’re gonna get to fundraising so we can take the team on that camping trip you want to happen so badly. And we’re gonna do it in a big way—with a calendar spread.”

“Oh, Good God,” Brien groans, closing his eyes. “I heard about that. DaSilva, I might turn a blind eye to you and Levi doing whatever the hell you’re doing together, but I’m sure as shit not signing off on a calendar that has you wearing nothing but an appropriately placed sock.”

“I’m not talking about me or that stupid sock.”

“The team,” Levi murmurs from beside me, “you’re talking about the team and then with you as the—”

I nod.

Yeah, with me as the photographer.

Refusing to acknowledge the way my heart pounds a little too fast, I ask roughly, “You in?”

The curve of her smile is the sweetest encouragement I’ve ever felt. “Will there be sharks and bears?”

“I’ll see what I can come up with.”

“Then yes,” she murmurs, “I’m in.”

28

Aspen

The boys on the team are beyond ecstatic about the chance to sell calendars with their faces on them.

Their mothers, on the other hand? Not so much.

Sitting at my kitchen table, I flip to the next parent signature form and spy another scribbled comment at the bottom corner of the page:Any chance Coach DaSilva will go shirtless, at least? ~ Belinda Wilde.

Wilde. Wild. How fitting.

Cross-checking with my spreadsheet, I tick off Matthew Wilde from my list, marking him as good to go. Then I return to the forms, moving onto the next. This time the note is scribbled beside the date:Let me know if you need any help with anything. In college, I always helped my sorority with putting together our fundraisers. P.S., wine date soon? – Meredith.

I worried about returning home to London. I was gone for so long that returning felt a bit like London was an alien planet and I had no idea if my oxygen would work here.

Over the last month, it’s gradually begun to feel like home again.

Would it feel that way if it weren’t for Dominic?

The thought is completely unbidden, but I turn it over in my head anyway. In the grand scheme of things, I haven’t known my next-door neighbor for long at all. A matter of weeks, person to person. Years, I guess, if you take into account all those times Rick brought him up in conversation, long before Dominic retired from the NFL.

That Dominic and my Dominic feel like two completely different people.

MyDominic.

I certainly don’t own him, and I’m not even sure we’re dating. Isn’t that something I should talk to Topher about first? Sure, helikesDominic—as a coach and a friend. If Dominic and I make things official, he would be . . . a stepdad. Maybe. One day. If things get that far, which I’m not sure they ever will.

That would entail Dominic sticking around long-term. While I know he’s feeling the London vibes right now, who’s to say that he’ll want to stay forever?

---