Page 89 of Love and Other Champagne Problems

“Meaning you balance me out well.”

“I meant what I said.” He withdrew his hand from mine and reached up to tuck my hair behind my ear, fingers lingering near the pulse point on my neck. “We’ve both spent our whole lives doing what other people wanted us to do. You’re showing me it’s okay to stand up for what you want.”

I rolled over flat on my back now, raising an eyebrow. “What are you talking about?Youwere the one that showedmeit’s okay to stand up for what you want. Your whole ‘happiness is better’ mission, remember?”

“I never let myself do it before,” he confessed, gaze tracing my face. “I never practiced what I preached. You’ve shown me that I can be my own person and the world won’t fall apart.”

“Even though my attempts to be my own person have my world falling apart.”

“We’re talking about me here.”

A startled laugh burst from me, and I pressed a hand over my mouth, far too self-conscious about my unbrushed teeth.

Sumner pulled my fingers away. “I love that I get your real smiles,” Sumner said, and he moved his hand from my neck to trace his finger along my lips. His fingertip caressed the bow of my top lip, tracing all the way down to the bottom. It was pure electricity, his touch, waking up my insides and causing my blood to sing. “They’re mine.”

“I’m yours,” I murmured, his finger bumping along my mouth as I spoke. His gaze dipped down to my mouth, the blue darkening like the sky as a storm rolled in. Watching the hue shift, morphing into a new color of desire, caused heat to flush through me, warming any of the frost that’d sunk its teeth into me the night before. I lifted my hand to cover my mouth again. “Don’t kiss me; I’ve got morning?—”

“Then keep your mouth shut,” he said with affection, grabbing my hand once more, but this time, he didn’t let go.

So, despite the bedhead and unscrubbed teeth, with his hand holding mine, Sumner kissed me, and I let him.

And yes, indeed, I very much so liked Sumner’s body against mine.

Later that morning, I walked from the hotel to the country club, enjoying the sunlight that gazed down. It seemed horribly cliché, and I’d never admit it aloud, but the air seemed fresher today, the sun brighter. For the first time in the longest time, a smile felt like it was constantly resting just underneath the surface of my mouth—the same mouth that’d kissed Sumner Pennington yesterday.

I was a girl smitten. My pessimistic side saidew, but I let myself be cheery. Just this once. And I made sure no one was looking.

With Annalise’s wedding happening on Saturday, the country club was a flurry of activity as everyone scrambled to prepare for the wedding of the century. It was all hands-on deck, which meant Sumner had a shift this morning. While I technically still had the power to whisk him away, since his babysitter role was more important than his Alderton-Du Ponte role, I continued to talk myself out of seeing Nancy, pushing it off. We could go later tonight. Maybe we could go out to eat together after we left. Our first official date.

My parents were also in peak stress over the fact that Vivienne Astor would be returning, along with her infamous husband. Some of their stress poured over onto me, of course, because the arrival of the Astors also meant that this weekend was D-Day—to decide which route to take my life.

Not that I even considered the alternative, but it was a lot easier to dream about abandoning everything I’d ever known versus actuallydoing it.

So, of course, there was only one person I could call who had experience with making her own decisions.

“I’m missingso much,” Destelle groaned on the other end of the phone.

“That’s what you get for following your boyfriend around the country.” I walked heel to toe around the east pool, where no one was present on a Wednesday afternoon. The sun was bright, and I’d discarded my suit jacket over one of the lounge chairs. It was getting too hot to wear them, but it felt disconcerting walking out of my room without one, as if I was leaving half-dressed. “It’s only just become eventful.”

“It wasn’t that exciting when I visited in February.”

“I do bring the party with me wherever I go.”

Destelle’s comforting, musical laugh traveled through the phone. “So, let me get this straight—there’s a boy.”

I scrunched my nose. “Aman, but yes.”

“And it’s not Aaron Astor?”

“It is not.”

“But you like him.”

I thought about Sumner’s warm arms around me this morning in bed, the effortless way he held himself above me as his lips touched mine. “Yes.”

“AndnotAaron Astor?”

“Correct. Your listening and retention skills have improved.”

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