I lifted her chin and stared into her beautiful eyes. “Don’t sign.”
“I . . .”
“I know it’s fast. I know it’s crazy. It’s right. We’re right. Tell me you feel how strong this is—how strong we are.”
“I do.”
“Don’t sign, Avery,” I pleaded. “Think about it. Please.”
“I will.”
I tugged her back to my chest.
“And Avery?”
“Hmm?”
“Soon, I’m probably going to send you a text. One that says I love you again.” I blew out a long breath. “Only this time, it won’t be a mistake.”
I felt her tears on my chest. “I’d like that,” she whispered.
I pressed a kiss to her head.
“Good.”
Avery
Beth smirked at me knowingly as she arched an eyebrow. “I am not wearing some off-the-rack, ugly green dress when you get married, Avery.”
“It’s a little soon to be talking about a wedding, Beth.” I huffed, dropping my fork, picking up my glass of wine.
“You spent the whole weekend with him. You forgot about me. Your best friend.”
“I’m aware.”
“You had sex with him.”
“Yes.”
“Numerous times.”
My lips quirked at the memories flitting through my brain. Daniel’s wandering hands. His wicked, talented mouth. His strong, muscled body. His massive . . .
I swallowed heavily, trying to calm my increase in breathing. “Yes.”
She tapped my phone. As soon as I sat down, she had grabbed it, scrolling through our text messages, crowing in delight at them. “He adores you. He says so—repeatedly. He’s building up to the ‘L’ word.”
“I know.”
She studied me for a moment. “You love him.”
I sighed. “I think maybe I do.” I shook my head. “How is it even possible, though?”
“It happens.”
“In fairy tales, and maybe, to other people. Not to me.”
She studied me over the rim of her glass. “Why not you?”