Page 135 of Merry Me
I hit send and continued watching Easton walk toward me. Like some kind of slow-motion heart attack in his suit and loosened tie, looking at me like I was the only thing in the room worth noticing.
Okay. Okay. Breathe.
I was going to say it.
NotYou look niceorThanks for not letting me emotionally combust this weekor even something safe likeI like you. No. I was going to sayit. The big one. The one that had been sitting in my chest like a champagne cork waiting to pop.
I was going to sayI love you.
My thumb hovered over the keyboard like it was waiting for a better idea, but I’d already sent the last message. I shoved my phone into the pocket of my dress—and yes, God bless this dress for having pockets—and felt it immediately start buzzing like a taser in my hip.
Casey and Riley were clearly losing their minds.
The vibrations came in frantic bursts—three in a row, then two more. I didn’t even need to check to know that the group chat was a full-blown emotional crime scene. Caps lock. Emojis. Possibly one or both of them threatening to haunt me if I didn’t deliver details within the hour.
I didn’t check. Not yet.
Because he was almost here.
I had to check my mouth for drool when he finally got to me because he was looking too good for words tonight. His tie was loosened just enough to be criminal. He looked—ridiculous. And devastating.
“For the girl everyone’s pretending not to stare at,” he said,handing me the champagne flute, his fingers brushing mine with just enough pressure to make my pulse stutter.
I took the glass and raised an eyebrow. “If this is another butter-me-up move, it’s working.”
He grinned, that crooked thing that never failed to turn my insides to soup. “You owe me a dance.”
“Oh, I do?” I said, lounging back in the chair like I was entirely unimpressed—even though my pulse was sprinting like it was training for a 5K.
He stepped forward, offering his hand. “Absolutely. For surviving your family. For not pulling a MeMaw and throwing a fork at your half sister. And”—his gaze swept down, then back up to my face—“for looking like that and expecting me to carry on like a functioning human.”
I snorted. “You’re so dramatic.”
“And you’re dodging,” he said, offering his hand. “Come on. Don’t make me beg.”
I sipped my champagne, letting it fizz against my lips before setting it down. “Fine. But only because you brought me bubbles…”
“Bubbles and charm. I’m an overachiever.”
He pulled me to my feet, and I wobbled slightly on bare toes before finding my balance. “Maybe I should’ve kept the shoes on just so I could step on you.”
He leaned in with a wicked glint in his eye. “Kinky.”
“Maddox,” I warned, trying not to laugh as he tugged me toward the dance floor. “You’re lucky I like you.”
He twirled me once, dramatically, then pulled me in close. One hand rested on my lower back, the other curled through mine, steady and warm. The song was soft—Sinatra, I think. Or maybe something that just wanted to sound like Sinatra. Something swoony and slow and built for exactly this kind of moment.
The fireplace crackled behind us, shadows climbing the stone like they had somewhere to be. Snow kept falling outside thefogged windows, and inside, it felt like time had slowed just for us.
“You looked beautiful today,” he said, his voice low, his mouth so close to my temple it sent a shiver down my neck.
I huffed a laugh. “I was full of windblown hair and stress sweat.”
“Still beautiful,” he murmured. “Especially now.”
“Now I’ve got blisters and wine teeth,” I muttered, half into his chest.
He smiled. “And somehow still the most radiant person in the room.”
