Page 13 of The Best You've Ever Had

“Me either.” His dark eyes drop to my lips, causing every molecule of oxygen to be sucked from my lungs. Is my childhood foe thinking about kissing me?

While the idea should disgust me, I’m shocked to find a part of myself wanting him to. Holding my breath as I wait for him to lean in and close the distance. But he pushes off the counter with a sigh instead. “I also hate knowing that he’s going to leave this earth worried about the fact that I may end up alone.”

“I’m sure that’s the last thing he’s worried about.”

“Just ten minutes ago, he told me the thing that makes him the saddest about dying is not being able to see my future wife and children. Missing out on what lies ahead.”

My heart breaks all over again at his words. At Mick’s sadness about missing out. At Ben’s worry of not being able to satisfy his grandfather’s concern during his final days.

I jump off the counter, and adjust the hemline of my dress. “Fine. I’ll do it.”

His head jerks up, surprised. “You will?”

“Yes. But don’t make it awkward. No kissing. Of course, no sex, even though I’m sure I don’t need to specify that.”

He grimaces. “Pretty sure there’s a slight chance we might need to kiss in order for them to buy it. How about no tongue though?”

“Fine. No tongue. Lastly, promise not to fall in love with me.”

“Only if you promise the same back.”

“There’s not a chance in hell that’d ever happen,” I scoff.

To seal the deal, he extends his hand. I take it firmly, locking eyes with him, pretending I’m completely unaffected—despite the electric jolt that surges through me the moment our skin connects.

As our parents’ voices grow closer, he whispers, “I’ll make an announcement tonight.”

I jump at him, grabbing his corded forearm as he begins to walk away. “Wait. No. Not tonight. We need to hash out the details first.”

But right as I’m clinging to his body for dear life, our families walk in. Dante pushes Mick in his wheelchair and settles him at the kitchen table. It looks like I’m hugging Ben’s arm to my chest, and everyone immediately notices. They exchange wide-eyed, raised-eyebrow glances, silently wondering what the hell this is all about.

Fuck it. There’s no good time to pull the trigger, so might as well be now. I relax into him, pushing my body into his side. He looks down at me, those dark eyes impressed by my sudden acting skills.

Clearing his throat, he says, “We need to tell you all something.”

I paste a tight smile on my face, and squeeze the living hell out of his arm, hoping it’s alittlepainful for what he’s putting me through right now.

“We’re dating,” he announces.

Assuming it’s a joke, our parents roar with laughter—even going as far as to slap each other’s backs like we’ve just told an excellent punchline to a joke. Ben and I stand there, still touching while watching them, unsure of what our next step should be since no one clearly buys this poorly thrown together charade.

Snaking my arms around his waist, I put on my best convincing lawyer voice, and confirm everything. “As unlikely as it may seem, it’s true. We’re together.”

The entire room gets quiet as they begin to realize that perhaps we’re not joking. They finally take a moment to observethe way we’re touching. How we’ve gone from throwing words and fists to being all over each other.

Mick’s eyes light up. “Well, this wasn’t on my bingo death card. But I can’t lie…if this is true, then I’m ecstatic.”

“We didn’t see it coming either,” Ben replies.

Mom eyes us with cautious excitement. “When did all of this come about? Is that why you slept at his house the other night?”

“Layla slept at his house?” Brandy shouts with elation. “Maybe it is true after all.”

I grind my teeth. “Yep. That’s exactly why.” It definitely wasn’t because I fell asleep from jet lag while watching the world’s worst show.

“Have you two been talking for awhile or is this brand new?” Dante asks from beside his wife.

“We’ve been talking over the phone for a few months now. Last night we decided to make it official.” His gigantic arm wraps around my torso, his hand settling on the curve of my hip. From habit, my brain puts me on alert that he’s going to try and pull some prank. I tamp down the feeling, and focus on how touching him feels surprisingly not weird. It feels comfortable. And safe. Like I fit perfectly in the crook of his arm.

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