Page 126 of The Pucking Arrangement

“What’s all this?”

My feet move on instinct, closing the distance before I’ve even decided to. My hands find her waist, fingers pressing in, pulling her against me.

“A date.”

She exhales this tiny, shaky breath that wrecks me completely.

“Dmitri, it’s wonderful.” Her eyes sweep over the garden again, lingering on the details I spent hours obsessing over. I brush my thumb over her knuckles, needing that connection.

“Let me feed you before I fuck you,solnyshko.”

It’s meant as a tease, but my voice comes out thick, heavy with everything I really want to say.

Stay with us.

Let’s make this real.

Be mine.

She feels it. I can tell from the way her breath catches, from the way her fingers twitch against my chest before curling into my shirt.

She tilts her head, lips curving in a slow, wicked smile. “I’m game for both.”

Fuck.

“Yeah?” My voice is a rasp, the word barely making it out.

She rises onto her toes, pressing the lightest kiss to my mouth.

“Feed me.”

I lead her to the table, pull out her chair, pour the wine in a slow, steady stream—anything to buy myself another few seconds. Rehearsing the words in my head. About staying. About Fire Island summers. About letting me love her.

If I could, I’d ask her for forever. Slip a ring on her finger, hold her to me, make her mine in every way that counts. But she’s too young, too free, still chasing dreams that need wide-open space, not walls built around her.

If I push too hard, I’ll lose her.

So, for now, I’ll keep it simple.

She takes her first bite of burrata and moans, and holy fuck?—

I grip the edge of the table like it might anchor me, letting the conversation drift—wine, music, Ris’s latest skating adventure, Finn’s absurdDancing With the Starsoffer. But beneath it, something simmers. A weight pressing down, waiting to break the surface.

And then, it does.

She sets her glass down, fingers absently tracing the rim. A tell.

“I need to tell you something.”

The air shifts. My body goes still.

She hesitates, then the words tumble out in a rush, like she needs them gone.

“Luka invited me to come to Dubrovnik. For the summer festival. And then…” A sharp breath, like she’s bracing for impact. “He wants me to tour with him in the fall. Thirty cities. All over Europe.”

A slow, cold knot twists in my stomach.

“It’s an incredible opportunity. The kind that could launch my career. I’d be crazy not to take it.” Her voice wobbles like she’s trying to convince herself just as much as me. Then the final blow—soft, but absolute. “I said yes.”

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