Page 75 of The True Love Experiment

His grin is wicked. “I know.”

I don’t even know what to do with the infatuation ballooning in my torso. This bubble of joy rising in me is going to take me out, land me flat on my back if I don’t get my arms around him somehow. Peter and Kailey are still outside, taking couples’ photos post-ceremony. We have such a long night ahead of us, with dinner and toasts and dancing and cake, but I’m going to take advantage of this quiet lull. I take Connor’s glass and set it down on a high-top table, and then lead him to the small dance floor where a few couples sway slowly to the music.

He looks quizzically down at me, but his arms go around my waist when I slide mine up his chest and around his neck. “This is a sexy posture,” he says into my ear.

“Well, I feel sexy things about you.”

“But publicly?” he asks.

“Just give me this one dance, you hot DILF.”

He relaxes against me, hands warm on my lower back, and I rest my cheek to his chest. “You have nice muscles.”

“Thank you.”

“You are a very dapper brick wall.”

A quiet laugh rumbles against my temple.

I close my eyes. “You make it very hard to want to fall for someone else.”

The truth of this weighs me down, an anchor, dragging behind me.

He doesn’t say anything to this, not for five or ten or thirty seconds. I keep waiting for the remorse to land or to feel rejected in his silence, but instead it feels like agreement. He’s holding me so close.

“Maybe we can sneak out of here later and watch the episode,” I say.

“I’d like that.”

“No funny business,” I add. “Despite what I just said. I know we can only be work homies watching the episode together.” I notice he doesn’t say anything tothis, either. And then it occurs to me. “Wait. Should you be at the office or—I don’t know—accessible somehow tonight?”

“No,” he says. “Blaine’s on it. He knew taking you here tonight was an important job.”

“Ajob, huh?”

“I pretend you’re a lot of work. It gets me points with the boss.”

“I am a lot of work.”

This makes him laugh. “Felicity, you are the easiest thing I’ve ever done.” I look up at him, watch his words land on his own ears. A flush crawls up his neck and turns the tips of his ears pink. “You know what I mean.”

“I do know what you mean, but you’re also full of shit. Objectively speaking, I am a handful.”

He tucks my head under his chin. “Get over yourself.”

I laugh into his shirt and close my eyes. Fuck, he’s perfect. This is awful.

thirty-fourCONNOR

Slow dancing with Fizzy is the last moment of quiet we have for the next four hours, because what follows is the most luxurious and impeccably planned event I have ever attended. There is an opulent eight-course meal, surprisingly tender speeches, riotous dancing, cake cutting, and woven throughout are endless people wanting to see Fizzy, hug her, take photos with her. Fizzy has jokingly described herself as the family disappointment, but it always felt like there was a kernel of truth there, and tonight, the internalized disconnect astounds me. It is clear from watching her that everyone in this room adores her beyond measure, and even though it isn’t her wedding day, the attention she receives makes it seem that a soft beam of light follows her through the room.

Or maybe that’s just my gaze.

Truly, I cannot take my eyes off her. And when she approaches me later, holding an unopened bottle of champagne and gesturing with a tilt of her head that she wants to escape, my heart does an aching dive in my chest. I didn’t realize until the opportunity was before me how much I wanted to be alone with her again before the night ends.

“Do you have to head out or can you come up and watch tonight’s episode with me?”

I know the right answer is that I should head home. I know, too, that when it comes down to it with this woman, it’s always up to me to set boundaries, and my feelings for her are contained behind a very thin, very fragile wall. I should do a better job protecting my heart.

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