Page 64 of Best In Class
I nuzzle back into him, letting my hand rest over his, where it wraps around my waist. “I’m not.”
And I’m not. It’d be foolish—and frankly dishonest—to pretend I don’t feel what I feel.
I love this man.
I’m not ready to say it out loud yet. Not like he has, so openly, so many times. But it’s there. Unmistakable. Warming my chest like the morning light spilling across the quilt.
Last night wasn’t a mistake.
It was right. That’s why it happened.
“I need a shower,” I say, feeling lazy.
“We’ll take one together,” he assures me.
We make it down to breakfast a little later than we’d planned because as we got ready, we kissed, we held, we hugged, we touched, we connected.
This was new.
We were childrenthen.
Thenit had felt like an inevitability. Maybe it was hormones. Maybe it was love the way it should be. Butthenis notnow.
Now, we’re grown-ups, and it’s different. It’s more conscious. It’s a choice.
Mrs. Vann greets us with a big smile. “Sleep well?” she asks politely.
“Yes, thank you,” I reply, aware of Dom’s hand brushing my lower back as Mrs. Vann leads us to a table for two near the window that looks out over a lovely, well-kept garden.
The dining room is a vision—whitewashed beadboard walls, floral curtains drawn back to let in the sunlight, a worn oak table set with mismatched antique plates, and a centerpiece of fresh gardenias.
Dom holds out my chair like he’s courting me in 1950, and the absurd part is that it’s working.
I feel courted.
I feel seen. Cared for.
Maybe this isn’t doomed to fall apart. Maybe I won’t get hurt this time. Maybe this is my happily ever after.
Mrs. Vann brings out two heaping plates—fluffy buttermilk biscuits, scrambled eggs with chives, thick-cutbacon, cheese grits, and a side of roasted peaches that smell like sin.
“This is one hell of a breakfast,” Dom murmurs as she walks away.
“No kidding.” I pick up a biscuit. “And I’m starving.”
He chuckles and hands me the jam. “You good?”
I nod, spreading peach preserves onto a biscuit. “Better than I’ve been in a long time.”
“Yeah?” His smile is so big it hurts me to look at it.
“Yeah.” I can’t help it.
I’m falling. Falling. Falling.
He cheated on you!
He was a kid. I did stupid stuff then, too. Remember how I made him feel like he wasn’t good enough for me because he didn’t have money?
