Page 91 of Sugar Baby Mine

Even now, with lemon on my tongue, all I want is cinnamon as I watch him glide across the dance floor as he shares a dancewith his new cousin-in-law. It makes my heart seize up, my stomach twisting with jealousy because I can’t do anything other than picture myself in her place, and I have to cross my arms, fingers curling around my biceps to avoid bad habits I’ve long since kicked.

I want to be the one he dances with, even in a room full of his family.

The thought feels like ice shattering along my skin.

My gaze drops to the floor because I can’t take it.

I can’t take the thought of asking for what I really want and him saying no. I can’t take the sting of rejection. It’s part of why I’m always the first to exit a relationship or a situationship. Always the last to come, first to leave.

And suddenly, I’m halfway across the room, breezing past the entrance display with the guestbook table and portrait displays of the couple’s engagement photos with my hand outstretched for the door handle.

“Emmeline.”

I freeze, my hand curled around the cool metal handle as my stomach plummets further.

“Did you change your mind?” Ben asks, his fingers slipping over my wrist but not removing my grip.

Yes,I want to say. But what comes out is, “I don’t like dancing.”

“You don’t have to—” he starts, but then cuts himself off and clears his throat. “Come with me then.”

My gaze drifts up over my shoulder to where he’s standing next to me. There’s no judgment in the way his gaze sweeps over me, only the barest hint of concern that shows through the crease in his brow. And I almost crumple into his chest for it.

“Where?”

I let go of the door handle, and he tugs gently on my wrist as I follow the turn of his body. It isn’t far, and it certainly isn’t outside. Instead of fresh air, he pulls me into the space behindthe curtain of a photo booth that’s been set up for guests.

Ben drags me onto his lap as I adjust to the bright light overhead, my tongue struggling to catch up with my brain.

“This wasn’t what I was expecting.”

He raises a brow at me, rearranging me on his lap as his arm curves around my waist to hold me against his chest. “And what was it that you were expecting?”

“I dunno.” I shrug. My body begins to settle into something less prickly without the heavy sound of the reception ringing in my ears. “Maybe a quiet moonlit walk in the park across the way.”

“It’s, like, 6 p.m.” He laughs.

“Yeah well, wishful thinking and all that.”

He reaches out to touch the screen in front of us. “Well, how about the next best thing—take a picture with me.”

I squint up at him, arms crossing. “Next best thing, huh?”

“Play along, little bird.”

“Fine.” I sigh, wiggling into his chest and turning my chin up at the camera lens. “I’d love something to remember this day by.” My tone is only a little bitter. “But only if we do at least one silly face.”

“Whatever you want,” he says absently, scrolling through the screen selections. “All right, get ready.”

The screen begins to count down from five, and my heart skitters into a faster beat.

“Silly first,” I say quickly, sticking out my tongue and making my eyes go cross-eyed. The picture snaps, the countdown quicker this time for the next photo as I throw my arms around Ben’s neck to kiss his cheek. When I feel his cheek perk up as he laughs, I don’t feel so fucking crazy anymore. It feels normal when I’m with him. I feel normal.

The camera clicks, then a regular smile as I turn back to the lens. A laugh has me nearly doubling over when his hands dig into my sides and fuckingticklesme. I’m still laughing, pushinghis face away when the camera clicks again.

Then he’s grabbing my chin and kissing me.

I’m giddy, smiling into his mouth as everything inside of me that was protesting and alarming just melts away at the press of his lips against mine.

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