Page 49 of A Little Too Forward

“Clever.” I’ll give him that play on words. “You’re lucky I love you back, or you would be a dead man walking.”

His grin grows so big at my words. Sweeping me off my feet, he carries me to the sofa and angles me so that my legs are bracing his.

“You love me?”

“I do. I do love you. And I’m sorry I walked away last week and ghosted you. I got scared and too in my head about something Bruna said.”

“She told me.”

“Wait. Bruna told you what she said to me?”

“Well, not in so many words, but when she saw the final cut—the version you saw tonight—she called me for a little chat. She didn’t apologize outright, but she did allude to the fact that she may have had the wrong idea about what was happening between you and I on set.”

“And she still kept this part of the documentary in?”

“That’s up to you. It can be cut in time for the premiere next week. If you want to keep our relationship a secret for a little longer.”

I don’t need long to think about it.

“No. I don’t want to hide how I feel about you anymore. You’re right. The documentary was about the fans getting to know you on a deeper level. They should know that you’re off the market, and they can eat their hearts out.” I giggle at his look of shock.

Bending so that my forehead touches his, I frame his face with my hands.

“I love you, Max. Thank you for waiting for me. For fighting with and for me.”

“I love you too, Bean. And I’d do it all over again.” Our lips meet for a brief kiss before he pulls back. “Question though.”

“Yeah?” I say, wanting his lips back on mine.

“Why are your hands sticky? And why is your sofa so prickly?”

I pull him in for a tight hug as laughter bubbles up again.

“It’s from the popcorn I was eating.”

“From the feel of it, you must have been shovelling it in your face and let it spill everywhere.”

“You’re not wrong about that either.”

“I’m so fucking lucky you’re mine, Sabrina. So fucking lucky.”

I kiss him, long and deep, silently telling him just how lucky we both were.

We stay like that for a while, tangled in each other on the couch, sharing soft kisses and elated chuckles. The weight of the last few weeks—the fear, the doubt, the what-ifs—melt away in his arms. Max had always been my safe place, and now, I let myself feel the full strength of that safety.

After a while, Max shifts, pulling me upright on his lap. He brushes a stray popcorn kernel out of my hair and smiles, his blue eyes warm with amusement. “So, what’s next for us, Bean? Are you ready to face the world as my better half?”

I snort a laugh, the sound loud and unrestrained. “Better half? Oh, no. I’m the much better half, and don’t you forget it.”

“Noted.” He kisses the tip of my nose, his grin growing. “But seriously. What’s next for you? For us?”

I sober at his question, but the fear of the unknown I might have felt a few weeks ago doesn’t bubble up. Instead, I’m filled with a strange sense of certainty. “I’ve been thinking about that. About what I really want.”

“Besides me?”

I nudge him playfully. “Yes, besides you.”

“And?”

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