Page 83 of Between Here and There

I shake my head in disbelief. “You’re amazing, you know that?”

Her lips twitch into a small, almost shy smile, and she glances down at her hands. “Thanks,” she says softly.

“And the club?” I ask, keeping the conversation rolling.

“That one I’m definitely resigning from,” she replies firmly. “It was always just a temporary gig to make ends meet. I’ve decided I’m going to start hunting for an accounting firm—specifically one that’s woman-owned. If I can’t find one, well…” She smirks, the mischief in her eyes unmistakable. “Maybe I’ll just marry a stranger and get a green card so I can open my own.”

I chuckle, shaking my head. “That’s one way to do it.”

She turns to me, her expression playful. “You got a better idea?”

“I’ve been a citizen since I was twenty-one,” I say casually, throwing her a pointed look. Her eyebrows shoot up, and she stares at me for a moment. “I’m just saying,” I continue, “If you’re marrying someone for a green card, you may as well aim higher than a stranger.”

“Oh yeah?”

“Yeah. Someone handsome and charming, and has a key to a secret rooftop. Someone who owns a toolbox. You know, the bare minimum.”

“Oh, I see,” she says, her voice dripping with mock suspicion. “If this is a proposal, it sucks.”

“Sucks?” I repeat, pretending to be offended. “You’re a tough crowd.”

“Well, yeah,” she says with a smirk. “Where’s my sweeping declaration? My flower bouquet? My—”

“Careful, Emily,” I cut in, leaning closer, my voice low and teasing. “Keep talking like that, and I might actually make you fall for me.”

“Maybe I already have,” she says. I expected her to counter me with an equally teasing remark, or a joke, or anything. But now, I’m not sure if she’s joking anymore.

It’s stupid. It’s reckless. It’s everything I shouldn’t want, and yet all I can think about is the way she’s looking at me right now. The marriage jokes should be making me squirm by now. Hell, they usually do.

But this discomfort is different. It’s not the kind that comes from running away from commitment—it’s the kind that comes from realizing you might not be good enough for what’s right in front of you.

I can’t help but wonder, does she deserve me? Or, more importantly, do I deserve her?

The string lights above cast a warm, golden glow, but it’s nothing compared to the way her eyes shine, even in the half-light. The faint scent of flowers mingles with the crisp night air, grounding me and completely untethering me all at once.

She tilts her head just slightly, her gaze darting to my lips for the briefest moment. My heart kicks into overdrive.

And then, like it’s the most natural thing in the world, I lean in.

She does too.

And—

Her phone rings.

The sound slices through the moment like a bucket of cold water, and I immediately pull back, clearing my throat as if that will somehow erase what almost just happened.

“Hello?” Emily says, her voice raspy. She glances at me, her expression unreadable. She clears her throat before she continues, “Hey, David!”

Who the hell is David?

I try to play it cool, leaning back against the bench, but inside, a storm is brewing. I know I have no right to feel anything about who she’s talking to, but I hate the name David now.

“No, no,” she continues, tucking a stray strand of hair behind her ear. “I’ll be at the café tomorrow… lunch? With you? I guess.”

Lunch? With him?

She nods along to whateverDavidis saying, her tone friendly and light, and it’s enough to make me grit my teeth. I force myself to relax, casually resting one arm along the back of the bench like I don’t care.

---