Page 41 of The Wingman

She pulls the paper off and her curious expression drops into a flat, unamused frown.

“Hayden.”

I start shaking with laughter as she stares at the box, repulsed.

“Please tell me this is a joke and that’s not actually what’s inside.”

“Open it and find out.” God, this is fun.

She opens the flap of the box and groans. “Are you serious?”

CHAPTER 18

DARCY

“For Valentine’s Day,you got me a pillow shaped like a man’s chest?”

Hayden’s eyes glitter with amusement. This is Hayden at peak handsome, smiling and relaxed, his long, toned limbs sprawled out across the sofa. “For cuddling. Do you like it?”

I make a strangled noise, but I start laughing. “No!”

On the box, an exuberant woman has the stuffed arm propped around her shoulder.

“Is this a message? Should I practice on inanimate objects first?”

He pretends to look concerned. “Did you want the one with chest hair instead?”

I whirl on him, unable to hold back my curiosity. “Was that an option?”

“Oh, yeah.” His eyes sparkle. “I wasn’t sure what your preference was.” He lifts the stuffed man chest up and props it over his shoulder. “You can sit on the couch and watch TV with it.”

I cringe. “It looks so small next to you.”

He gives me a knowing, flirty smile, and I roll my eyes.

“Don’t be weird.”

I pray he doesn’t take his shirt off and start flexing again. My skin still feels warm from when he did that earlier.

“Well.” He tosses the man chest onto a nearby chair, sighing like he’s disappointed. “I’m sorry you hate your present. I’m a terrible wingman.” He reaches into his pocket and pulls out a black velvet box. “I didn’t have time to wrap this one.”

“That’s okay.” I narrow my eyes at it with suspicion. “Too big to be an engagement ring, so that’s good.”

His smile falters, and I press my mouth tight. I always say the wrong thing.

“Sorry. Just thinking about earlier, I guess.” I open the box, and all the weird feelings fall away.

The bracelet is beautiful. A delicate gold chain with tiny clusters of hexagons and glittering, clear stones. I run the pad of my thumb over them, memorizing the textures.

“Are those honeycombs?”

His gaze is easy and warm on me. “Mhm.”

We hold eye contact for a long moment, and I wonder, does he remember? A few years ago, I went down a rabbit hole about bees. It was all I could talk about for weeks. Bees can count. Their hives are built in an organized, methodical,mathematicalfashion. Even though they’re just a tiny insect, bees work together to build strong, stable beehives with these hexagons.

It’s what I love about math, the sheer wonder and awe of it. How it’s everywhere in nature.

My eyes go to the sparkling gemstones. “Tell me those aren’t diamonds, Hayden.”

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