Page 120 of The Fiance Dilemma

“Did you have a nice time with Cam?”

His smile was lopsided. “He gives me shit but I know he loves me.” His voice lowered. “Don’t tell him but I still can’t believe I got to share a couch with one of my idols. It was really hard to keep it together and act cool. I deserve a reward. Even if small. Preferably from you. Ideas?”

My laughter was unstoppable. “You do know youwillbe their child’s godfather, right?”

His eyes widened with the thought.

I kissed him then. There was a surprised tiny gasp, then he took over, deepening the kiss with a low hum.

“That’s exactly what I was talking about,” he murmured, coming up for breath. I arched my brows. “You’re my reward, Baby Blue.”

Matthew was wrong this time.

He was my reward.

We spent most of the day together before Adalyn and Cameron hugged us goodbye and returned to their place with the promise of coming by the following day.

Quickly after, Grandpa Moe retired to his room to watch a rerun from one of his favorite seasons ofThe Bachelorette, leaving us alone tocanoodle or whatever,in his words. Judging from Matthew’s face, I doubted Grandpa Moe’s comment had left him exactly in the mood to canoodle so we were—innocently—curled up on the couch, while we ignored the unfolding consequences of everything that had gone down the day before.

I’d been trying not to think too much of it, or at the very least, not to speak of it so I wouldn’t make it any more real than it was. But if I’d learned anything these past weeks, it was that keeping stuff from coming out usually meant it’d eventually make something burst.

“The town’s going to be unbearable tomorrow,” I whispered.

Matthew sat up on the couch, as if immediately ready to talk about why or how much, or anything I needed to, really. He appraised the space between us with a frown, then snatched my legs and placed them on his lap. “I’d offer to drive us fast and far away from here, but I don’t think that’s something you want to do. So how about I come with you to Josie’s tomorrow? We’ll open up together, and then you can set me on a stool at the counter and I’ll take every question while you work.”

I considered the plan with a smile. Perfection might be subjective, like Matthew loved to say, but to me there wasn’t a thing about this man that I didn’t think was perfect. Not after saying that. Not after everything.

“Driving away is tempting,” I admitted. But having him with me at Josie’s, just like he’d painted, not just tomorrow but every day,was even more so. It made my smile wider, although it also opened up questions. Like Matthew’s job or where he’d live. Was now the moment to talk about that? I shook my head. “But you’re right. I—” He squeezed my ankle.“Weshould face everyone and get that out of the way. It won’t be that bad. They were probably expecting me to blow it anyway.”

Matthew’s face hardened. “You haven’t blown shit, Josie. And if anyone implies that tomorrow, no matter how well-intentioned, I’m kindly but firmly answering by leading them out of your establishment.”

A chuckle escaped me. “I’ve always wondered what having a bodyguard would feel like. Will you pick me up, princess-style, and navigate the crowd of gossip-hungry customers as you pull me away?”

The corner of his mouth tipped up as he threw me a wink. “Absolutely.”

I couldn’t know if it was the goofiness in the wink, or the way he’d said that like it was nothing, or maybe the domesticity of the moment, but… “I love you.”

My words seemed to catch Matthew off guard for a second, so I poked his stomach with my foot.

“Get used to it, mister,” I said. And the surprise dissolved, giving way to his smile. Matthew’s smile. Then something else. “Stop looking at me like that. I’m trying really hard to have a conversation with my—”

“With your what?”

“With my man. My Matthew. The man I love.” His face softened impossibly. “The man whose parents are arriving in town for a wedding that’s not taking place, too.” I swallowed. “Do you think they will be mad?”

“They will be surprised,” he answered, voice matching his face. “They’ll want an explanation. But no, I don’t think they’ll be mad.There’s nothing to be mad about. Not where you—we—are concerned. As for myself, I’m most likely getting my ass whooped for lying about my job. But that’s a different conversation I need to have with them.”

“I could be there,” I offered. “When you tell them about that. I can hold your hand. If you need me.”

Matthew’s gaze turned impossibly tender. Sweet. Also hungry.

Delicious heat climbed up my neck. I swallowed. “You look ridiculously horny, Matthew Flanagan.”

“And you’re making your smile.”

He didn’t need to say which one.

Matthew chuckled, and his mouth popped open with what I knew was a promise, but a ping from the coffee table distracted us. All amusement was snuffed out, and I knew from the way he looked at me that he wanted us to ignore it but wouldn’t ask me to. We both knew what that message was most likely about, and we both had been ignoring the world—and the internet—long enough.

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