Page 57 of Shared By my Ex's Best Friends
“That you want this too.”
Her gaze drops to my mouth, then back to mine, steady and sure.
“I do,” she says.
The relief that floods through me is immediate and overwhelming. I try to slow the pounding rush in my veins, the way my heart hammers as if it’s desperate to leap from my chest into hers.
Her thumb brushes my bottom lip gently, a delicate touch that somehow sets my whole body on fire.
“You kissed me like you meant it,” she murmurs.
“I did,” I whisper back. “I do.”
A faint smile tugs at the corner of her mouth—soft, like a secret shared just between us.
Then, almost like it’s the quietest truth in the world, she says, “You always make me feel safe.”
I kiss her again—this time slower, softer, with reverence instead of desperation, like she’s something fragile and rare that I’m lucky enough to hold, even if only for a moment.
When we finally pull apart, breathless and silent, I reach down and thread our fingers together.
We stand there, the sounds of the distant party drifting faintly through the night, but neither of us says a word.
Not that words are necessary, though. I can tell exactly what she’s feeling and thinking, and I know she can say the same for me.
This girl is it for me, I’m certain of that. And if I have to share to have her, then that’s a small price I’m more than willing to pay.
Chapter twenty-three
LIAM
The rehearsal dinner winds down, the clamor inside softening into scattered laughter and murmured goodbyes. The chaos quiets—but not in me.
I spot Maya near the back porch, tucked against the side of the building, shoulders pulled in like she’s bracing herself against some inner storm. Her eyes scan the thinning crowd but don’t really focus.
There’s that tightness in her jaw, the way she bites the corner of her lip when she’s trying not to let something crack through the surface.
She looks like she’s holding it together with spit and string. I want to fix it. I want to give her peace, if only for a night.
I slow my pace, keeping my voice easy. “Need a ride home?”
Her head snaps up, startled for a moment, like she didn’t expect me to see her. Then she offers a small, grateful smile. “Yeah. That’d be great.”
“Cool,” I say, gesturing toward my truck. “Let’s get you out of this circus.”
We start walking side by side, the clatter and chatter fading behind us with every step.
The night air is cool, a welcome change from the warm, thick buzz inside. The city lights glimmer in the distance, faint and steady, like a promise of calm after the chaos.
When we reach my truck, I pop the door open and step aside.
Maya hops in, pulling her coat tighter around her shoulders as she settles into the seat like she’s slipping into a little pocket of quiet.
I climb in beside her. My hand finds the keys and I turn the ignition—the engine’s low rumble instantly grounding me, a steady heartbeat to anchor the moment.
We pull out slowly, the streets quieter now, the city’s hum softened under the night sky. The drive settles into a calm rhythm, a comfortable silence wrapping around us like a blanket.
I can’t help but glance over at her—her face soft in the glow of passing streetlights, lips pressed together. I wonder what she’s holding back.
