Page 92 of This

When I pull back, my eyes fall to her wrist, no black braided cable or medallion. “You’re not wearing your bracelet.”

“I don’t need it anymore. I’ve found what I was looking for.”

“Oh?” I say, wrapping my arms around her waist. “So then, what were you looking for, Bennett?”

“This.” Then she shrugs, her lips curving into a smile when she looks up at me. “Whatever this is.”

“Love, baby. This is out-of-nowhere,what the fuck have you done to melove.” I kiss her and grab her ass to lift her, tying her legs around me.

“Dane!”

Fuck, I’ll never hear my name enough out of her mouth. And I plan on making her say it a lot for the shit she’s put me through to get here.

She locks her arms around my neck as I carry her through the living room toward the torn-apart kitchen. “What are you doing?”

“Checking out our home.”

But, really, I’m looking for a basement. You know, just in case.

Bennett

Hey.

I smile at the pink sticky waiting for me on the back door when I get home. Dane ran out of his original supply a long time ago, but he steals more from Keaton and Liam’s house whenever we are there. He isn’t subtle, purposely dropping them in front of her, but she has yet to notice her stash depleting.

When I get inside, I drop my gym bag and still-unused yoga mat. By the time I locked up the photo studio, I’d blown any chance of making it to class. Not that anyone was expecting me, since I’ve successfully missed every one since I signed up last month. At least today, I had an excuse that doesn’t involve stopping for an iced coffee. My last client was bossy, and her husband was an absolute nightmare. I swear, if pregnant Keaton wasn’t so fucking adorable, I’d have kicked her and Liam out of their own maternity shoot hours ago. Liam almost lost an arm when he reached for my camera, claiming he had a better angle.

I drop my keys on the kitchen counter and notice another mini-mem.

I know how you like to look for things, so … find my notes and then come find me.

A laugh bursts out of me, and I glance around, spotting another on the archway leading toward the living room. I peel off my message, my belly doing a familiar flip when I read what he wrote.

Marco followed me weeks after I already started to creep his Instagram for pictures of you. I couldn’t stop. A man obsessed.

Another is stuck on the frame hanging over the fireplace. The sun beams at the perfect angle through the skylight at this time of day, highlighting what has somehow become the focal point of the entire room. Offering to photograph Steve was a mistake, but I thought it would be sweet since he’d painted me. If only I’d known the portrait would wind up hanging over my mantel. Not only is he in a full tuxedo with his chin jutted up, but he’s also proudly holding Little Stevie.

Reaching up, I pull down the sticky.

And the reason I was late to the engagement party was, I’d tried to convince myself you weren’t special. Just a woman I needed to screw out of my system.

The next is on the coffee table.

Rendered pointless the moment I saw you again. You were the embodiment of what I never knew I wanted—even in flats.

Each note is a confession from him to me, and I follow the trail of pink through the house.

Real talk, it was always a date.

You inspired three more playlists, each cheesier than the last.

My first trip to SF turned into three allergy shots. It was worth every second with you.

I stop at the bedroom door and sigh at the one on the knob.

Even when I tried like hell for it not to be you, it was you. ALL I see is you, Bennett. I loved you then, now, tomorrow, always.

Adding it to my pile, I open the door and roll my eyes on my way inside. Dane’s standing in front of a wall covered entirely in pink sticky notes with a giant question mark drawn in the center.

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