Page 77 of The Pocket Pair

Mari kisses my cheek. “I love you, princesa.”

“I love you more,” I choke out.

I know I’m going to cry. Now, later, forever. It’s why I planned to bring her alone, knowing full well I’d need to take frequent stops on the drive back. It’s hard to drive when you’re bawling your eyes out, and that is exactly what I’ll be doing.

And now I'll be doing so in front of Chevy. Not good.

I am not a soft, pretty crier. There is splotchy skin involved. And noises. The sniffly, snotty kind. When I blow my nose, it sounds like a foghorn. I could direct traffic or help ships get into port. If I’m hoping to win Chevy over, this is not the way.

“I can’t believe you’re really going,” Chevy says, and am I imagining the way his fingertips brush my neck? I don’t have time to really wonder, because then he says, “Sheet Cake won’t be Sheet Cake without you, Mari.”

Oh no! The burning in the top of my nose and stinging in my eyes is starting! I cannot fall apart here. Must. Hold. Tears. In.

It takes the kind of superhuman strength to keep the tears at bay. I know it won’t last. But for this second, I’m okay. Semi-okay. More like an active volcano someone has stuck a giant cork in. The clock is ticking on how long the cork can withstand the mounting pressure.

“Don’t get too skinny,” Mari says, reaching behind me to pat Chevy’s cheek.

Chevy chuckles. “That's never been an issue.”

“Valentina can cook. Make her take care of you! Won’t you feed this man, Val?”

Subtle, Mari. Subtle.

Knowing Chevy can’t see me, I grin. “I’ve been trying. The man is stubborn.”

“Don’t I know it,” Mari says.

“Hey—I’m standing right here,” Chevy says.

He sure is. Standing right here, with one of his arms slung around my shoulder and his chest pressed to my back. His fingertips are definitely moving on my neck—small strokes of his that are making me positively shiver.

I’m suddenly much too hot for this kind of closeness and disentangle myself from the three-way hug as quickly as I’m able. Chevy steps back, tucking his hands into his pockets. His gaze slides over me like he’s checking to see if I’m okay or still have all my limbs.

Mari points a scolding finger at his chest. “I’ll say it right to your face, young man. You’re stubborn. Let my Val take care of you.” Then she turns the finger on me. “You’ll take care of him?”

Like she needs to ask. I find his eyes, hoping he’ll see the challenge in mine. “I’d like nothing more.”

Before I can fully decide if Chevy’s cheeks are suddenly pinker than a moment ago, Mari grabs both of our hands in hers, then basically forces us to hold hands before stepping back.

Obvious much?

I could protest or make a joke, brushing off her blatant matchmaking. Instead, I link our fingers together like it’s the most natural thing in the world to hold Chevy’s hand.

It’s a bold move. Look at me—bold Val’s come to town, y’all!

Meanwhile, under the calm exterior of bold Val is a tiny band of minions screaming wildly and babbling their enthusiastic nonsense. Because I’m holding Chevy’s hand.

“And you will take care of my Val,” Mari says.

“I will.”

“You make sure she is good until she safely gets to me. And after?” Mari lofts a shoulder and grins. “Maybe you’ll keep taking care of her.”

I might roll my eyes while Chevy chuckles beside me, but I’m smiling. And I don’t miss the way he squeezes my fingers, instead of letting me go.

With a last quick kiss on my cheek and a wink for Chevy, Mari takes her carry-on bags and marches to the security line. The urge to chase her down and tackle her to the floor, holding her until she’s missed her flight is strong.

This is happening. She’s really leaving. And I’m supposed to follow her soon.

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