Page 83 of The Masks We Burn

Our chests rise and fall in unison, and finally when our breaths even out enough for me to talk, I find his arm and graze over the tattoo. “It’s your turn to talk. Why pink?”

William smiles that delicious grin I’ve missed way too much. “I’m coaching football with Bellamy. We started a youth league for the community.”

He stops to see my reaction, but I’d already known. My father told me one day while we were putting in sticky tile in the café. I was so fucking happy I’d cried. Then made an anonymous donation to the “hottie with the body”.

I mean, I’m still Amora, it’s to be expected.

Will’s smile expands and he shakes his head. “You knew. You didn’t happen to give to the crowdfunding, did you?”

I shrug. “I’m really proud of you.”

He kisses my lips way too quickly, before tucking a loose hair back in my bun. “Thank you. But anyway, it made me feel alive again. I’ve found my purpose, and it was only right I get another butterfly.”

“Okay, but pink?”

“Patience, young grasshopper.” He bops me on the nose like I’ve seen his parents do at dinner, and I chew into my lip to keep from smiling like a dummy.

“The first time I kissed you, you started a spark I hadn’t felt in years. You woke me up to a possibility I’d long given up, and I knew the moment I fell in love with you, that whenever I got my shit together, pink would be the first one I’d get. That way if we didn’t end up together, I’d have a daily reminder of all the things that are possible even when you think they aren’t.”

I grab his collar and lose myself to a kiss again, only this time, he freely presses his erection into my lower belly. I moan into his mouth, and he breaks it and looks around. “I mean…”

Laughing, I shake my head. “I have a better idea, and I want to show it to you after the wedding.”

He perks up, pulling me into a hug. “Are we shitty if we leave early?”

I laugh against his chest, my heart so damn full it could bust, and I’d be content with my fate. “Definitely.”

William grunts unhappily, drawing me back far enough to look me in my eyes. His brows furrow as an expression of seriousness washes over him. “Fine. But cake, the send-off, and then we’re getting the fuck outta there. Deal?”

I beam at him, making the second-best deal I’ve made all year. “Deal.”

CHAPTER THIRTY-THREE

“Are you sure we can be here?” he asks from under my makeshift blindfold I used from Spencer’s pocket square.

“Hush,” I hiss. “The owners live upstairs, and if you’re not quiet, they’ll hear us.”

“Wait, what?” William tries to turn about, but I pull tight on the fabric, keeping him forward.

“You ready?”

He nods, but I hold him a few more seconds, listening to my heart hammer against my ribs as it races out of control. I’m not sure why I’m so nervous. Sugar and Spice is a fucking hit, and it hasn’t even opened yet, but something about him seeing it for the first time, and before the grand opening has butterflies swirling in my stomach and bumping into the walls.

“Baby, I know it’s going to be great. Let me see.” His warm hands come up and slide over mine, the sheer contact of his skin lighting my core on fire. “Trust me.”

“I do. And keep in mind, it’s not done, I still have plenty to do.” I take a quick breath, jerking my hands away and letting the pocket square fall to the floor.

Will does… nothing. His eyes only scan around him as he takes it all in.

He’s facing the bakery section right now. The space behind the front, unfinished counters is 3D-brick wallpaper, with a few floating shelves surrounding a white neon sign with the café’s name. On the shelves are a few anime Funko Pops with devil’s ivy cascading down. The floors are black hexagon tiles that make everything pop and complements the black iron that frames the tall windows and door.

My bistro tables are plain white, but on top, under a layer of hard resin, are sheets of overlapping manga. Each table is a different favorite of mine.

“Where did you get the name?” he finally asks, running a hand over one of the tables.

I chew on my lip. “It’s a play on how you used to call me sugar as I’m sweet when really…”

“You’re spicy as hell,” he finishes, and when I nod, he chuckles, turning to face the lounging area. “Good thing I like flavor.”

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