Page 117 of Relationship Goals

He returns the slap with a gentle nudge and a confused look. “This is where we’re supposed to pick our dinner?”

Darren/Gerard steps in between us with a nervous throat clearing. “Bien sûr, where else would we pick them?”

“From a normal lobster tank,” Luke growls at him. His hands twitch at his sides.

Ha! He’s not as calm as he’s pretending.

“Why have normal when you can have this?” I ask him.

I’ve been psyching myself up all day for what I’m about to do.

“Depends what you mean bythis,” he mutters.

I clap my hands twice, and Darren bites his cheeks in a familiar expression that I know means he’s trying not to laugh.

“I’m ready,” I declare.

“Oui, mademoiselle.” Darren nods, and then he scurries off, clearly relishing his role.

Luke stares after him, then swings the weight of his gaze to me.

“How the fuck are they going to get it out of that?”

“Oh,” I coo. “I don’t want to spoil the surprise for you.”

If he doesn’t break up with me after this particular display of weirdness, I’ll have to truly up the ante.

I don’t think that will be a problem, though.

Satisfaction makes me smile, and I roll my shoulders back.

Darren returns a moment later with a ladder on casters, one they reserve for the divers who clean the huge tanks.

When he hands me the swim cap, I tuck it over my head expertly, thanks to all the time I spent in pools filmingBlood Sirens.

I see the exact moment Luke realizes what I’m about to do.

“No, Abigail.”

“Prepare to feast on lobster,” I say grandly, unhooking the wrap dress and revealing the swimsuit I have on underneath it.

“Abigail, what the fuck are you doing?”

“I have a plan,” I tell him, and I say it with a sharp enough bite that he blinks in surprise, stepping back. “Don’t you like me enough to trust me?”

He shouldn’t, but I know now that liking me never had anything to do with it.

I force a gentle smile on my face and nod at Gerard.

He hands me a net bag, and then winks at me.

With a flutter, my silky wrap dress falls to the floor in a pile of cream floral fabric. I ascend the ladder like an Olympic diver, and the urge to laugh hysterically hits me so hard that my foot slips a little as I hold it in.

“If she hurts herself, I will hold this place andyoupersonally responsible,” Luke growls. “Not an inch of her gets hurt. Or else.”

“Mon dieu,” Darren manages, then breaks out into a coughing fit.

He’s also trying not to laugh.

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