Page 83 of A Slice of Love

I go back through the most recent notes, and I can’t find any unanswered questions in them either.

Then something catches my eye.

“What the hell…” I mutter, staring down at the words sticking out at me. “No. There’s no way…”

I shake my head, smiling as my heart begins to swell, tears prickling my eyes from the emotional overload I’m experiencing.

Right there, in bolded letters, it reads,Will you marry me?

I laugh, and the tears fall free.

That’swhy he used marry and not merry.

I grab my phone to call him just as the doorbell chimes through my tiny apartment, signaling the arrival of my dinner.

I figured if I couldn’t spend my anniversary with my main squeeze, I’d go for my second love—pizza.

Crossing my small living room, I swipe at the happy tears rolling down my cheeks and smooth down my hair, trying to look like less of a mess for the poor delivery person on the other side of the door.

“It’s about goddamn time,” I hear when I pull it open.

My knees almost buckle, and my hand goes straight to my chest, trying to hold my leaping heart inside. “Jesus!”

“No. My name is Jonas. Like the Weezer song.”

I stare at him, mouth hanging open.

Somehow, even though I only saw him three weeks ago, he looks bigger, bulkier. He looks every bit the NFL quarterback that he is.

Andthat beard.

I bite my lip just thinking about the way it feels between my legs.

Snapping out of it, I launch myself into his arms.

He catches me like he was made to do just that.

“I can’t believe you’re here!” I say into his neck, because that’s where my face is buried. “Wait.” I pull back. “Howare you here?”

“Well, this may come as a shock to you, but in 1903, right here in North Carolina, they built this thing called an airplane and—ow!What the hell, Frank? Quit pulling my hair.”

“Quit being a smartass and kiss me.”

He does.

Jonas crashes his mouth against mine, capturing my lips in a kiss that steals my breath and breathes life into me all at the same time. His hard lips move against mine, fitting over them like they were made for kissing me.

When we pull apart after what feels like hours and all too soon, he grins at me.

His full lips pull into a smirk. “Hey, Frank.”

“Hi. I missed you.”

“I missed you more.”

“Liar.”

“I flew like 1,800 miles just to kiss you—I definitely miss you more.”

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