Page 115 of The ABCs of You & Me

“Do you trust me?” Foster asks.

“Of course,” I reply, curious why he’d ask me such a thing.

I think he’s going in for a kiss, but his head moves to the side and suddenly I’m spun around as his one hand supports my shoulders and his other drops to my thigh.

He dips me dramatically, and then his lips cover mine in a kiss that would leave me on the floor if he didn’t have his arm around me.

I’m faintly aware of a hoot coming from somewhere nearby, but I block it out and focus completely on all the places Foster is touching me. This is one of the times hyper-fixation benefits me. Everything around me seems to fade away as I zero in on the way his left hand grips and loosens over and over again. The way his tongue explores my mouth. The feel of his heart beating wildly beneath my palm. I want to stay like this. Just him and me in this underwater world.

“Okay, you two, I got like six hundred pictures, let’s move along,” Maya calls.

Foster pulls back a little bit but only so he can look down at me. “What?”

He shakes his head and pulls me the rest of the way up, kissing me quickly before Maya and Davis join us to continue through the tunnel.

“Oh my god, it’s so much harder than I expected,” I grunt. “Oh shit, I’m so sorry,” I apologize to the pottery instructor who got the bulk of my splattering clay. At least he’s wearing an apron.

“Happens all the time.” he says with a chuckle. “May I?” he asks, gesturing toward the elongated lump on my wheel.

“By all means.” I raise my hands in surrender and vacate the chair. I watch as he works to reshape what I ruined and do my best not to make a remark about what it looks like. Foster catches my eye, and I have to look away to keep from laughing, focusing extra hard on someone else working on my vase.

“Alright,” the instructor says, standing from the chair. “Slow and steady this time.”

Foster leans into my space. “I’m kind of glad you didn’t do that well.”

“Oh? Why is that?”

He raises an eyebrow at me. “I was getting a bit jealous of the clay.” The loudest, most obnoxious snort leaves my body. “Hot,” he whispers, going back to the vase he’s nearly finished.

“Wedding at a winery,” Foster says as he backs into an empty spot. “This seems almost too convenient.”

I’m about to answer but the way he grins over at me freezes my tongue, and all I manage is a little hum and a starry-eyed smile. Not long ago I was planning on attending Yasmine and Miguel’s wedding with someone totally different. But as I sit here staring at Foster, I can’t even picture who. It feels like it was always going to be Foster.

“Ready?” he asks, one hand on the door handle while the other gives my hand a quick squeeze.

I manage to blink out of my stupor and nod. I have never been more ready.

Yasmine is crying as she practically drags her father down the aisle toward her future husband. When I look back at Miguel, tears sting my eyes. He’s standing so tall, so proud as he watches the love of his life walk toward him, tears streaming down his own face.

Foster’s hand in mine tightens, and I look over to see that he too has tears running down his face. He barely knows Yasmine and Miguel, and here he is openly crying at their wedding.I adore him, I think, looking back in time to see Yas kiss her father on the cheek and hand her sister her bouquet with one hand while reaching for Miguel’s with the other.

The officiant does their thing while the small number of us in attendance laugh and cry some more. No one thought this day would come—well, no one except Yasmine. I’d smiled along to all her plans for the future with the guy she’d fallen for as a teenager, but I’m ashamed to admit that I hadn’t had the hope she did. I was scared of her hope and what would happen to it if things didn’t turn out for them. Terrified of what an unsuccessful transplant would do to my friend. I get it now, though—if it had been me and Foster, I wouldn’t have had anything but hope.

“I love a short ceremony,” Maya sighs as we walk toward the barrel room for cocktail hour. “This is exactly what I want,” she adds quietly so only I can hear her, her gaze sliding to Davis as he and Foster grab us drinks.

“Nothing big and flashy?”

“Oh, I didn’t say that. Everything will be big and flashy, but the boring stuff will be short and sweet.” She winks.

“Mmm.” I nod. “Like Davis.”

Her responding laughter echoes off the walls.

I can name almost everyone in the room. Thirty guests, all family and close friends. It’s exactly what I’d want except I want to get married at my parents’ farm, down by the cottage. I want to kick off my shoes and dance barefoot all night long. And I want to do all of that with the man handing a glass of wine to me, wearing the same blue suit he picked me up in for that first friend date.

“What?” Foster asks, grinning at me before popping a stuffed mushroom into his mouth. His eyes close, and he makes a noise I’ve only ever heard him make in bed.

“Seems like I have competition,” I whisper and watch as his cheeks darken.

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