Page 55 of Heart Strain

“Yeah.” He squeezes my hand. “Thank you for sharing your special place with me.”

“You’re welcome,” I say, extraordinarily pleased that he gets it and happy that I didn’t choose some normal, expensive chain place for our first real date.

Conversation flows easily through dinner since eating together isn’t abnormal for us. This has been a daily thing for weeks now. The only difference is tonight we decide to splurge and order dessert. As he leans over with a bite of tiramisu on his spoon to guide it into my mouth, he clears his throat. “Okay, hear me out. I’ve been thinking about this all day, and… well, now that you’ve brought me here and shared this with me, I’m convinced this is the right thing to do.”

“Okay.” My stomach clenches thinking that he’s decided that maybe we should remain friends.

“Right.” He blows out a breath, squeezes his eyes shut, and then says, “So, I told you I don’t normally date, right?” I nod, still not exactly sure what he means by that. Holds is such a good guy with so much love to give; I can’t imagine why he wouldn’t have been looking for the perfect someone. “Right. So I don’t normally date, I just… uh, you know?” I snicker as he shifts in his seat, his cheeks glowing a light pink. “So I’ve been thinking. God this is hard. I know we’ve already slept together, but what if we wait and go on a few more dates, spend more time together first, before we do it again? I know it sounds dumb since we’ve actually already spent a lot of time together and gotten to know each other pretty well. Even our pets have adopted each other and us as their other person, but… I really like you, and with my brother, and well, everything, I want us to do this right. What do you think?”

Staring at him across the small candle in the center of our table, watching the light glimmer off his eyes, noticing the different shades of brown running through his hair, hearing the sincerity in his voice, all I can think is there isn’t anything I wouldn’t do to ensure Holds dating me for a long, long time. “We still get to make out at the end of the night though, right?”

And that soft smile, the one that makes me feel like he sees something in me that I don’t see in myself, is back. “Foxy, until our lips fall off.”

“Then you’ve got yourself a deal.”

“Should we shake on it?” he asks teasingly.

Standing up, I lean over the table, making sure to stay above the candle. “How about we seal it with a kiss?” And he leans up, and we do exactly that.

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