Page 25 of Lucky Star

Chapter Ten

Sarah

“Carly says she always knew there was something going on between us,” Cameron said as his thumb brushed over the glass screen of his phone.

“Well, I’m glad she knew because I didn’t,” I answered over my shoulder as I tossed a dozen chicken thighs in a Greek marinade.

“And Mike sends his condolences for having to deal with me for the rest of your life.”

“Mike would know.” I laughed as I washed my hands. Mike and Cameron had grown up together and had been intermittent roommates since moving to L.A. fourteen years ago. If any two people knew each other’s living habits, it was them.

“Justin says I’m a lucky man.”

“You are.”

“Jennifer says you’re a lucky girl.”

“I am.”

As he scrolled through other messages, I couldn’t help but wonder if any of them had known about his feelings for me. For my part, I was certain I’d done a good job of hiding it, but if Carly had guessed, maybe others had too.

“Did Mike know?” I asked.

He looked up and smirked. “Of course.” Setting the phone down, he reached out to take my hand. “Two months ago, he told me I was going to lose you if I didn’t say something.”

I hated to bring it up when things were going so well, but I had to know. “Did he know about what happened? Before?”

“Yeah, he said I needed to grovel at your feet.”

“And look how well groveling worked,” I responded breezily, canting the top of my body over the counter to kiss him.

The sadness left his eyes and his brow relaxed, the lines of worry disappearing. “Thank you for forgiving me,” he said, refusing to let the subject drop.

“What’s done is done.” I waved away his apology. “We can dwell on it, gnash our teeth, or we can accept it happened and led us to where we are today.”

“I know but …” he trailed off, and I got the impression he had more to say but didn’t quite know how to express his thoughts.

I didn’t know when it had happened—probably when he’d asked me to marry him—but I wasn’t angry at him anymore. I made my way out of the kitchen and stood behind him. Wrapping my arms around his big body, I rested my cheek against his back. “Listen up, because I’m only going to say this once. No more apologies.”

“But—”

“No. What’s done is done.”

He swiveled on the bar stool so that we faced one another, and I stepped into the space he’d created between his thighs. “You’re amazing, you know that?” He dropped a kiss on top of my head as his hands caressed my back.

“I am,” I agreed, laughter bubbling to the surface. “And I’m also exhausted. What time is it?”

“The clock on your microwave says seven o’clock, so six-forty-five.” He chuckled, perpetually amused at my sad attempt to curb what could only be described as my chronic lateness.

I yawned. “I’m going to go take a nap. Gotta rest up for later.”

“Good idea,” he said, pushing off the stool and taking my hand.

When we reached my room, he stopped at the foot of the bed. “I know I’ve been sleeping on that side, but …”

“You want this one instead?” I motioned toward the side of the bed I usually slept on.

“I don’t want to put you out,” he responded sheepishly, running his hand through tousled locks.

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