Page 106 of Four Steps to the Perfect Fake Date

“Look at me.”

She didn’t want to. All Daphne wanted to do was get in her car and run away to somewhere she was safe. But she’d come this far, and he deserved to see her face to face. If she was honest with herself, Daphnemight have admitted that she wanted to look at his face one last time, since he’d just confirmed that this was the end.

Squaring her shoulders, Daphne turned. She knew her eyes were watery when she lifted her gaze to meet his, but she worried that if she tried to blot her tears, he’d think she was being dramatic.

“I heard you got a job offer,” Calvin said.

Daphne nodded. “I emailed my old boss a while ago. We both got laid off at the same time, but he’s got an opening at his new company.”

A muscle twitched in Calvin’s jaw. “I see. When do you leave?”

Daphne blinked. A tear escaped, and she brushed it away, then shook her head. “Oh, I’m not.” Her gaze slid to his shoulder as she let out a bitter laugh. “I turned him down. I still don’t know if that was a mistake, but hey. I’ve made a lot of those lately, so what’s one more? At least my family’s happy I’m sticking around.”

The sour twist of her lips faded when she lifted her gaze to meet Calvin’s. His eyes were intense, blazing as they circled her face. “You turned down the job?”

Daphne nodded.

“Why?”

“I ...” Words stuck in her gullet.

Calvin shifted closer, the scent of him sweeping over Daphne as she inhaled a trembling breath. The hand he’d kept pressed against her door moved to her shoulder, then to her neck, thumb brushing her jaw as he tilted her face up so he could study her expression. “Why did you turn it down, Daphne?”

Maybe it was the feel of his skin against hers that broke down the last of her defenses. Or maybe it was the shivering hope in his gaze, or the simple fact that he was chest to chest with her, and Daphne had never been able to resist him.

Of all the reasons she could have given him—all the logical little blocks she’d lined up in her head about career progression and living costs, about being close to her aging grandmother and working on her family relationships—there was only one that came to mind.

“Because I’m in love with you,” Daphne whispered.

Breath gusted out of him, and his grip on her neck tightened, his other hand reaching for her waist. Suddenly he was closer, the whole world contracting to only him. To that first brush of his lips against hers. The trembling breath that slipped through his lips as he shifted to press a kiss to her nose, then her cheek. The way his hands softened as he held her, drawing her tight to his chest.

When Calvin finally kissed her—reallykissedher—Daphne clung to him like he was her only salvation in a raging storm. She wrapped her arms around his shoulders and kissed him back, the length of her body pressed to his. He pulled away to wipe his thumbs against her cheeks, and she realized she was crying.

“I’m sorry,” she said.

He smiled. “Stop apologizing.”

“I can’t.”

Huffing, Calvin kissed her again. It was tender and soft, but it held a thread of promise. The promise that this was real and enduring and everything Daphne had been so terrified to face.

Leaning his forehead against hers, Calvin let out a long sigh as his fingers stroked her cheeks, her jaw, her neck. “I’m sorry too, Daphne.”

She jerked back. “For what? You haven’t done anything wrong.”

“I never told you how I felt, and I should have, and then I let you walk away and never reached out. All because I was afraid of what you meant to me.”

Daphne’s lip wobbled. “And what’s that?”

His smile was sweet and warm, his thumb stroking her jaw. “I want to show you something,” he said, and reached down to thread his fingers through hers. He tugged her to the front door, then leaned down to pick up the box of cupcakes and carry it inside, depositing it on the bench next to the entrance. Then he led her to the bedroom.

On the bed was a suitcase, half-full of neatly folded clothes. At the foot of the bed was her grandmother’s cast-iron pot.

Calvin wrapped his arms around Daphne, his chest pressed to her back. He braided their fingers together and clasped them against her stomach so she had no choice but to lean against him.

“I don’t understand,” she said, looking at the suitcase and the pot.

“I had dinner at my mother’s house tonight,” Calvin explained. “She told me you’d gotten a job off-island. As soon as I got home, I started packing my bags.”

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