Page 82 of The Escape Plan

His eyes meet mine, lit by the glow of the fairy lights. The heavy-lidded, heated expression he gives me tells me he’s thinking about what happened between us last night, too. How magically amazing that kiss was. “Same.”

The song playing on the speakers comes to an end, and I blink, breaking the moment. I’m nervous, I realize. Have a stomach full of butterflies over a boy who makes me feel like I’m beautiful.

“Shall we eat?” he asks, gesturing towards the spread of food. There’s more than just Eggos, I realize. He’s got bacon and sausage and eggs and a whole platter of fruit. When he sees me eyeing the strawberries, he laughs. “I had to bring something with vitamins in it to help us avert scurvy.”

“Sexy,” I tease, loving how he pronounces the word “vitamin” with an “it” sound in the middle instead of a long vowel like Americans do.

His eyes sparkle. “Yes, I do find the atmosphere on dates tends to be a little sexier when debilitating diseases caused by extreme nutritional deficiencies are not involved.”

“That’s weird,” I reply. “Can I expect any further dates this summer to be nutrient-dense too?”

He places a hand on his chest. “I solemnly swear to get as many vitamins and minerals into your diet as possible until the day I board my plane.”

We grin at each other, and some of my nerves settle as we take a seat on the blanket.

“What were you doing when I came to get you?” Becks asks as he pops the top on the sparkling wine and pours me a glass. He gives me that dimpled grin as he passes me the glass and adds, “I feel like I gave you a banshee-level scaring. Which I’m not going to saywasn’tkarma…”

I laugh and bump his shoulder with mine as I reach for a cinnamon Eggo. “I was actually looking through the box of Gramps’s stuff that Ezra gave us.”

Becks turns to look at me. In the glow of the fairy lights, his eyes are more green than hazel tonight. “Find anything?”

I swallow my bite of waffle before replying, “Nothing with Noeleen. But I did find wedding photos of Gramps and Grandma, as well as some family pictures. I’d never seen them before.” I take a sip of wine and hold the liquid in my mouth for a moment, letting the cold bubbles fizz on my tongue. “They looked so happy,” I tell him.

His eyes soften. “I’m glad. Your gramps seems like a good man.”

Just like you are, Beckett McCarthy.

“Was Noeleen happy?” I ask hesitantly, my teeth pressing into my bottom lip. “Did she find love and happiness in her life, too?”

Beckett rests his forearms on his knees, which are drawn up in front of him. “She never stopped believing in love,” he says. “Even though her marriage with my grandfather didn’t work out, she loved my mom and her grandchildren something fierce. She had a lot of love surrounding her.” He screws up his eyes a little. “I don’t think she died having any regrets, if that’s what you mean. I think she and Douglas were happy for a time together, and then both went on to live their own separate, very full lives.”

“Worth the broken heart to have had that time together,” I whisper, mostly to myself. Then, I hold up my glass to him in a toast. “And speaking of time together—to tonight.”

“Toyou, Keeley Roberts,” he counters, and his dimpled smile is everything. “My favorite neighbor of all time.”

“To an incredible summer with Beckett McCarthy,” I agree as we clink glasses. “Who comes a very close second to Mr. Prenchenko as a next-door neighbor.”

The look Becks gives me is positively sizzling as he reaches out and runs an index finger slowly, sensually across my lips. “I would’ve thought that, after last night, I’d be at the top of the neighbor leaderboard. But I guess I still have some work to do.”

“Ah, Mr. Prenchenko’s a pretty decent kisser, too,” I tease, and enjoy how appalled Beckett looks—in a really cute, jealous way—before he realizes I’m joking.

“Menace.” His voice is somehow soft and rough at once, his thumb still scraping over my lip. “I didn’t think I’d have to compete with a senior citizen with multiple wild boar paintings on his walls for your affections, but maybe my ego got the better of me.”

The tone of his voice, his teasing lilt mixed with something overtly sensual and weighted with desire, sends my stomach into freefall.

“Last night was the best kiss of my life,” I admit.

“I think we can top it,” Beckett says as he takes my wine glass out of my hand with purpose, a man on a mission as he sets it aside.

Knowing what’s about to happen puts my entire body into metaphorical freefall.

Just like that date all those years ago, I’m out of my comfort zone, but this time, it’s not the atmosphere or the person I’m with that’s pushing me there. It’s the fact that this is probably the most romantic moment of my life, and I’m here for it.

These sparks, this crazy crackling energy between us, is palpable as ever. But on a deeper level, that invisible string—the irresistible pull that’s been bringing us together over and over these past few weeks—feels stronger than ever.

We’re connected. And somehow, that makes the risk of letting myself experience romantic feelings for Becks feel like a lifeline.

No, a bungee cord. Because no matter how uncomfortable it is to be outside of my comfort zone—leaning into love when it’s burned me before—this time, there’s something to catch me when I fall.

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