Page 112 of Fumbled Into Love

I own the same number of Converse.

Throughout it all, the group laughs at my expense, and I laugh alongside them. My bag was due for a cleaning, and Deon is doing all the heavy lifting.

Gia, unsurprisingly, has remained quiet, sipping on her vodka soda with pursed lips.

“I’m tired,” she mutters, and with a soft smile, Declan utters goodbyes, whisking her out the door.

“We don’t like her, right?” Maren asks, saying what I believe we’re all thinking.

Henry immediately responds. “She’s not right for him. He’ll realize he didn’t zing and move on. But if he doesn’t, it will be a Seattle Super Spies intervention, don’t worry.”

I’ll admit I’m slightly uneven on my feet as Deon ushers us into the house. I flop to the floor as Gordie prances out of the back hallway and scoop him up against my chest. “You are the cutest cat in the world!” I say in a baby voice. “And the smartest.”

Deon shakes his head as he passes us and quickly returns with water.

“Drink this,” he commands, stealing Gordie from my grip, who releases a menacing meow and leaps away from Deon.

“He doesn’t like you much,” I giggle, pushing on my hands to rise. Deon grips my hips to help my balance. “Does my lack ofalcohol tolerance bother you?” I blurt out. “Do you think I’m too messy?”

I want to know how he feels about me.

Drunk Nathalie is brave enough to ask.

His brows crinkle.

God, he’s so beautiful that sometimes I have to look away from him.

“No.” He guides us into the master bathroom and hands me my toothbrush, a perfect dollop of toothpaste on the bristles.

I glance at myself in the mirror, eyes widening with horror. I look disheveled and, well, drunk. Deon tenderly pushes a flyway from my braid out of my eyes, and my heart flips and twists and clenches.

He can’t do things like that.

“Do you think I’m a good fake girlfriend?” The vulnerable question tumbles out, alcohol loosening my tongue.

Maybe that’s a reason I’ve never been able to prove to anyone I’m worth choosing. I’m not girlfriend material.

Deon physically recoils. “What?”

I lean against the counter, gripping the countertop for balance. “I just—never mind.”

His body blocks the door frame, trapping me in the bathroom.

“Did I make you feel like that?” His throat bobs. “Because you’re by far the best girlfriend I’ve ever had.”

My stomach lurches at the confession—his omission of the word ‘fake’—and the sincerity in his gaze.

“You’ve only had one,” I say, focused on the tile floor, suddenly bashful, when his thumb tips my chin up.

“I only need the one to know you’re by far the best.”

I shouldn’t blush at his words, shouldn’t let them root into my soul and plant a delusional seed of hope, but I do. The hope grows, a small seedling fighting to blossom when he helps me to bed, clutching me in his arms as we settle beneath the covers.

For tonight, I’ll let the small seedling blossom because in the morning, I’m going to have to pull it out, root by root, and it’s going to hurt.

CHAPTER 25

“I’m scared ‘cause I don’t know if you and I are in the same boat”

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