Page 69 of Not You Again
“Well, I really wanted that pencil.” Her lips curve into a shy grin, and her fingers brush the hair at my nape.
I smile in return, warmth flourishing in my chest—we have inside jokes again. That has to count for something. “What are you afraid of, Andie?”
She’s quiet, chewing on her lip, for what feels like an eternity. When I think she’s locked me out, she finally says, “I’m afraid of getting lost. In you, in this. Losing sight of what matters to me.”
It’s the most honest she’s been with me on camera, and the layers beneath what she’s said go so deep, the only ones who have a hope of understanding are the two of us.
“It’s so easy to get wrapped up in this.” Her eyes reflect the fountain’s lights back at me. “In the idea of true love and a happily ever after. In you.”
“In me?”
She dips her chin into a nod. “You’re easy to get lost in, Mr. Watson.”
My lips pull into a frown. I don’t particularly like the idea of Andie getting lost in anyone but herself. “Is that your way of letting me down easy?”
She lets out a puff of laughter, her fingers flitting over my pocket square—one that she made, of course. “The opposite, actually. It’s my way of saying I think I’m already in over my head.”
My heart launches at my rib cage, and I take in a slow breath to stay calm. “Is that a good thing or a bad thing?”
“Depends on whether or not you’ll catch me as I’m falling.” She meets my eyes in the dark, and I see everything in her gaze. Our past, our present, our future, if we’re brave enough to reach for it.
“I’ll catch you. I’ll get you a helmet, if it’ll help you take the leap.” My lips tug into a half grin. “We’re not in a dance studio, so we should be able to stick the landing.”
She laughs, her body humming beneath my hands. This is the lightest I’ve felt in ages. I pull her in close, so our bodies are flush with each other. She stands on her tiptoes and rests her chin on my shoulder, her arms linked tightly around my neck. I feel her breath all the way through me, and I know the feeling. I’ve wanted to hold her like this, to be held like this, for years now.
“I’m glad it was you, that day at the altar.” I play with a strand of hair that’s made its way loose from the tidy knot at the back of her head.
She slides her hands to my chest, curling her fingers around my lapels, and arches her back so she can look me in the eyes. I hook my fingers into her bodice where it meets her bare shoulder blades, holding on for dear life. She licks her lips, a little line appearing between her brows. “I need you to promise me something.”
“Anything.” My answer is quick off my tongue; I’ve been waiting a lifetime to pledge allegiance to her.
“I’m already in over my head,” she reiterates, running her thumbs over my lapels. “Promise you won’t let me get lost.”
I swallow. I’m not sure if that was an honest request to be her compass in the dark, or if it was a subtle reminder that she couldn’t afford to lose herself because she still needs to divorce me in a couple of weeks. And I can’t ask for clarification with the camera hovering nearby. For now, I settle for my honest answer. “I’ll keep you safe.”
It must be enough, because she pulls on my lapels until I bring my face close to hers. Our lips a hair’s breadth apart, I whisper another truth. “You look beautiful.”
Her response lights me up—her lips press to mine with a hardness that betrays her desperation. I slide a hand to her neck, using my thumb to tilt her jaw, and open my mouth to soften the kiss. It’s an offering that she takes readily, opening to me in return.
She asked me to keep her from getting lost, but I’m not sure how I’m supposed to do that when I’m hopelessly upside down. All I know is the clash of our teeth and the slide of our tongues and the breathy whimper she lets free when I gently bite her upper lip. She slips her fingers beneath my coat, her fingernails biting into my chest through my shirt.
I grip the back edge of her bodice in a fist, my knuckles digging into the flesh over her spine. We’re teetering on the edge of something so good it hurts, and I can’t bring myself to stop. Our mouths crash together again, not caring that we’re in public, or that she’s working, or that there’s a camera nearby, ready and willing to blast every piece of this moment on TV.
We’ve finally broken through whatever stupid wall was in our way, and we’re getting somewhere.
Thank God.
CHAPTER TWENTY-NINEANDIE
When I see my reflection in the bathroom mirror, I let out a groan of frustration. I dig in my clutch for the small tube of concealer and the powder compact I always carry to weddings, knowing they won’t be up to the task in front of them. Kit absolutely ravaged me out by the fountain. All’s fair, I suppose, because I hadn’t shown him any mercy either.
My body buzzes like I had too much champagne, even though I haven’t had a drop of alcohol all night. My lips are swollen, lipstick kissed right off them. My chin and cheeks are red and flushed from being shamelessly smashed against Kit’s face while Cassidy and Steve filmed everything.
I’m desperately patting concealer onto my chin when Heidi pushes open the bathroom door and stares at me. A mischievous grin crosses her face. She crosses her arms and leans against the counter. “Well, that explains why your husband looks so flustered.”
“Don’t call him that,” I mumble. This concealer is only making me look white as a ghost, the pink of my skin still peeking through. “Is there something wrong with the dress?”
“All is well.” She gives me a look from my toes to my face. “Making out at a wedding; I never thought I’d see the day.”