Page 56 of Begin Again

Orion stretches, seemingly satisfied with the chaos he’s caused. “I’ll leave you two to it. Theo, I’ll call you tomorrow with the time and place.”

I nod, and he turns to Selene, giving her a quick kiss on the top of her head before giving me a look that clearly saysI’m watching you.Then he’s gone.

The silence that follows is heavy. A lingering weight of everything Orion just dumped on us.

I glance at Selene. She’s leaning against the counter, her arms wrapped around herself, staring at the floor. Her teeth tug at her bottom lip, and I can feel the frustration radiating off her.

The timer for the cookies goes off. She moves automatically, pulling them from the oven and setting them on the cooling rack with precise, practiced motions.

“You okay?” I ask softly, stepping closer.

She lifts her eyes to mine, and even though she nods, I can see the uncertainty still clinging to her. “Yeah. I hate being the last one to know things. It’s also… it’s a lot.”

“It is,” I agree, keeping my tone light, trying to ease the weight in the room. “But we’ll figure it out. Together.”

She manages a faint smile, but it’s not quite there.

And I get it. Because I feel the same way.

Tonight was supposed to be… different. Better.

I was going to kiss her again. I knew I was. Maybe more. I felt it, she felt it, we were on the same page, the same wavelength. And then Orion had to go and drop a pile of murder conspiracies on us and completely kill the mood.

The worst part? He’s not even wrong.

But I still feel robbed. And frustrated. And if I’m being honest, I’m a little pissed off. I had spent the entire evening reading the room, waiting for the perfect moment, and the second I found it, it was yanked out from under me. Now all I have is a lingering sense of what could have been and a whole lot of pent-up energy with nowhere to go.

The only thing I can think to do is reach for the closest thing that still makes sense.

I nod toward the cookies before grabbing one and taking a bite. “Mind if I take some for the road?”

She blinks up at me then huffs a small laugh. “Go ahead,” she says, waving a hand. “I’d be offended if you didn’t, we made enough for an army.”

“Wouldn’t want to do that,” I tease, grabbing a small bag and starting to fill it with cookies. “You know, these might be the best cookies I’ve ever had. You’ve got a real talent.”

Her cheeks flush pink. “This is your recipe, not mine, so I am pretty sure you’re just saying that because I let you steal half the batch.”

I grin, leaning against the counter as I tie the bag closed. “Maybe. Or maybe I just like seeing you blush.”

She raises an eyebrow, but her smile widens, and I can’t help but admire how beautiful she looks when she lets herself relax. “You’re awfully smooth for a guy who barely got invited here.”

“Barely?” I scoff. “You practically begged me to come over.”

She crosses her arms, a mock glare on her face. “I did not.”

I smirk, stepping closer. “You did. You just don’t want to admit it.”

Her laugh is soft, but there’s a spark of playfulness in her eyes now, the tension from earlier starting to fade. “Maybe,” she says, shaking her head.

Leaving right now feels wrong, unfinished. The quiet hum of the kitchen, the faint smell of sugar and vanilla still hanging in the air. I glance back at her, standing there in the soft glow of the kitchen, her arms crossed loosely, her head tilted slightly as she watches me.

Her lips curve in a small hesitant smile, but there is another layer in her expression, uncertain, yet hopeful. That look does me in.

Screw it.

Before I can second-guess myself, I cross to her in two quick strides. Her eyes widen, and her lips part slightly, but before she can say a word, I reach out and grab the back of her neck, pulling her to me. My lips crash against hers, hard and fast, like I’ve been waiting for this all night. She gasps softly, her hands gripping my arms. Thank God she doesn’t pull away.

The kiss shifts, softening as I tilt my head and deepen it. Her lips move against mine, tentative at first, then more assured, and the taste of her—warm and sweet, like vanilla and sugar—goes straight to my head. Utterly perfect. It’s like tasting the cookies we just baked, only better, more alive, more real. It’s everything I’ve been remembering and more, and I’m already wondering why I didn’t do this sooner.

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