Page 39 of The Kiss Countdown

My outstretched hand gets ignored, and instead Mrs. Rogers pulls me into a hug. “I’m so glad to meet you,” she says, rubbing my back.

“At least let them come inside where it’s warm before you start hugging everyone to death,” a deep voice says.

Mrs. Rogers steps back with her hands clasped so tightly I figure she’s trying to hold back from reaching out to Vincent again as we walk through the doorway.

Once we step inside, I take a look at my new surroundings. Nowthisis a home.

Pictures on the walls, tailored curtains, pieces of furniture that look both used and cared for. I know without a doubt that love not only grows here but is embedded into the very soil this house was built upon and has seeped into the life of each occupant. That laughter has climbed up the walls like a vine, entwining each surface with memories and stories. Even if they decided to empty the place, the love would still be as tangible a presence as the warmth blasting from the fireplace.

“We’re so glad you could make it.”

I turn to find Vincent’s dad embracing him in a hug fullof hearty slaps on the back. He’s as tall and broad shouldered as Vincent, with light brown skin. His hair is more salt than pepper, but he’s the embodiment of the notion that some men look better as they age. I see Vincent inherited his dad’s nose, strong jawline, and good looks.

Mr. Rogers then turns to me and holds out his hand. “Amerie, it’s nice to finally meet you.”

Camille walks into the large living room with a glass of ice water. “Look who made it to two functions in a row. I’m proud of you, Vince. Let’s see if you can keep it up.”

Vincent rolls his eyes but doesn’t respond to his sister. “Momma, I want to get Amerie and me settled in. We had a long drive.”

“Of course.” Mrs. Rogers turns to me. “Vincent told us about your allergies, so we put you two in the guesthouse out back. But don’t let that make you feel unwelcome. You’re free to come over here to the big house anytime, of course.”

“That sounds perfect,” I say. In fact, it’s the best thing I’ve heard all day. I’ll have somewhere I can relax so I won’t have to pretend this whole trip.

“That’ll be fine, Momma. Thank you.” Vincent uses his free hand to steer me to the back of the house and out a glass door.

The guesthouse is really more of a large room. It fits a queen-size bed and has a mounted TV, a portable heater plugged into the corner, and a small restroom. It’s cute and homey. And my eyes keep snagging on the bed.

There’s no getting around it. I’ll be sharing it with Vincent.

I watch him shut the wooden door and sigh. If he keeps this up, he’ll pass out from oxygen overload.

“The drive didn’t hit you that hard, did it?” I ask.

Vincent doesn’t answer. Instead, he sets our bags by thedoor and moves to sit on the bed. The bed we’ll be sharing in a few hours, but it’s best not to dwell on that fact for now.

“Hey, what’s up?” I say softly.

“I haven’t been out here in years. It’s a lot to take in right now.”

“How many years?”

Vincent blows out a breath while running a hand over his head. “Eight.”

I try not to let the shock show on my face. I can’t imagine staying away from a home like this for eight whole years. I get that his parents now live in Houston, and this is more of a vacation home, but still.

I wish I had a place like this to call my home. So much so, it almost hurts to breathe.

When people ask where I’m from, it’s easy to proclaim Houston, but there’s no evidence. There’s no single address imprinted in my mind or funny stories I can tell about the neighborhood kids racing home before the streetlights came on. Just impressions of different apartment buildings with different stairways and concrete steps.

I push past the homesickness for a home I’ve never had and move to sit by Vincent on the bed, leaving a good six inches between us. “Your mom seemed really happy to see you. She seems sweet too. I don’t think these next few days will be so bad.”

Vincent snorts. “Remember those famous last words for me, okay?”

“Come on, we’ve got this. And, with your doting girlfriend demanding a lot of your attention, I think we’ll be able to keep the pressure off you this week.”

His eyes rove over my face, lingering on my lips before he looks away. “There is that.” He takes one more deep breath and stands up. “Do you think you can handledinner in the house? I think we’ve got twenty minutes, tops, before anyone comes knocking at the door.”

“Sure. I just need to get out of these travel clothes.”

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