Page 67 of Best In Class
“That’s harsh,” Stella protests. “Let’s say it the way it was: you had challenges at home.”
“That’s one way of putting it.” I huff out a short laugh.
“And then you grew up,” Stella points out.
I did. When I had Dom, it had been better, but then I lost him, and my world crashed around me.
“I had therapy…lots of it,” I counter.
“Dom grew up as well…maybe he had therapy, too. You’re not the people you used to be.”
I bite my lower lip.
Stella stands, smoothing her blouse, pretending like she didn’t just ambush me with emotional whiplash. “Let’s get to our meeting, and instead of glowering at him, this time, smile. Don’t overthink every second. Just have fun, hon. You deserve that.”
“Fun,” I repeat like it’s a foreign word.
“Yes, Luna. Fun. Flirting. Dating. Enjoying the fact that a hot, remorseful architect is on his knees.”
I snort. “You make it sound so simple.”
“Itissimple. You just make it complicated because you live in your head like it’s a one-woman war zone.”
She comes to my side of the desk and kisses the top of my head. “Let him show you how special he thinks you are.”
I take her advice.
When I enter the conference room, I smile at Dom…brightly.
And when Camy tries to snuggle up to him, it doesn’t bother me, because his eyes, those blue-blue eyes, are on me.
Damn right!
CHAPTER 17
Dom
It’s been two days since we made out like teenagers in a bed-and-breakfast in the middle of nowhere.
Two days, and I’m still replaying the moment her hands tangled in my hair like she forgot all the reasons she ever pulled away. Still remembering the way she tasted: like salvation and risk. Still feeling the weight of her head on my shoulder after, quiet and safe.
We didn’t talk about it after she said she needed time.
We didn’t need to.
Something shifted. The air between us isn’t sharp anymore. It’s still charged because we are who we are—but the static feels different now. Like anticipation instead of warning.
I think about how to bring us, not back to who we used to be, as that’s neither possible nor relevant, but to a new place where we can learn what the years have done to us, taught us, and raised us.
I want todateLuna Steele.
I dive into Lev’s pool, which is narrow and deep, made for laps, not lounging.
It’s still early—barely sunup; the world is quiet except for the soft slap of water against tile and the distant hum of birds in the live oaks beyond the fence.
I swim with long, clean strokes and a steady rhythm, maintaining good breath control. It’s more than muscle. It’s meditation.
Lev offered me the use of his home gym, but I prefer to start my day with a run through the neighborhood while the world’s still gray and sleepy, and then laps until I’ve burned off just enough tension to function like a sane human.
