Page 75 of Winter Glam in Amsterdam

"No, it's…" She splutters, putting the full mug on the counter in front of me. "I don’t think I could have dealt with being alone yesterday. So… thank you."

She looks better than yesterday. There’s a little bit of spark back in her step, her eyes don’t look as red anymore and she’s not trying to make herself as small as possible.

"Are you feeling any better?"

"Not much," she admits, climbing onto one of the barstools. "It feels like my life is one step forward, two steps back and I’m just exhausted."

Her eyes are firmly on the mug in her hand as both of us trail after our own thoughts for a moment.

"Listen, I—"

"You know—"

We start speaking at the same time, our eyes finally locking as we turn to each other in surprise, and then both break into a tentative smile.

"You go first," I tell her and take a sip of the coffee, doing my best not to grimace when I realize how strong she’s made it. God, with this intensity I’m surprised it’s not a more syrupy consistency.

"I’m sorry," she whispers. I hold my breath in surprise, looking at her with wide eyes. "I’ve been a bitch. So really… thank you for picking me up regardless."

"I deserved it," I say, but she shakes her head. Then shrugs and tilts her head in thought. "Partly," she quickly corrects, making me chuckle.

"But it’s who you are. You didn’t have to rush to the airport yesterday to get me, but you still did. And judging by the message my brother left on my phone, I assume you let him know after you got me here safely."

“I sure did,” I say, proudness swinging in my voice. “I’ve learned from my mistake, trust me.”

Wordlessly, she reaches for my hand and laces our fingers, giving it a squeeze. And I can’t look away from our intertwined hands.

When I finally glance at her face, she's still evading my gaze.

"Don't get me wrong, I'm still angry about the whole situation," she says. "But at the same time, I can't stay too mad. I mean, you did the same thing for me, now, so I guess I consider us even?" She frowns. "I don't know if that makes sense. In my brain, it did."

"I get it," I assure her, a spark of hope flickering in my chest. "I promise it won't happen again. Not if I can physically help it."

"I know," she assures me softly.

Feeling bold, I lift her hand and press a kiss into her palm. My heart is beating in my throat as I hold her gaze, her eyes filled with the worry I planted there, but they soften once I press my lips to her skin.

"So, what does this mean?" I ask her and for what feels like hours, her eyes jump from her hand to my lips and finally to my eyes.

"I don't know," she admits with a deep sigh. "It means I've missed you. Which is crazy because it's not like we knew each other that well in the first place."

She sighs and rubs the bridge of her nose her free hand.

"It means I'm sick of life throwing stones in my way. And of denying myself all good things,you, because I'm scared something bad might happen again."

She bites her lip, and I Iet go of her hand to cradle her face, pulling her lip free with my thumb.

"But I don't know how to do this," she says, motioning between the two of us. "I don't even know where to start. We skipped so many steps."

"How about we start together?" I ask her. “From the beginning.” She nudges her cheek into my hand. "One step at a time."

"One step at a time," she echoes. "And what's the first step going to be?"

"I think a proper date is in order," I tell her with a grin and her eyes soften. "So, Summer Sheppard, will you let me take you on a date?"

The faintest smile starts playing at her lips and I just can't hold back anymore.

"Fuck it," I whisper and with two strides, I round the kitchen island, crowding her back against it, caging her with my arms.

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