Page 235 of Make the Play

“Okay, your turn!” Meadow chirps.

A wave of heads turn in my direction, gleeful and waiting. Behind me, Lulu snorts.

I blink, scrambling for something that doesn’t sound like an emotional breakdown in vow form. “Uhh, right. Okay.”

Chase’s eyes don’t waiver from mine, but he bites down hard on his bottom lip, clearly trying not to grin too wide to avoid bodily harm.

“I promise to love you even when you leave your socks in the kitchen. Which, to be clear, isnotwhere socks go.”

“Counterpoint,” Chase says, “they were clean.”

“They werenotclean.”

I shift my weight, eyes narrowing but still holding his hands. “I promise to put up with your weird celly song obsession, your horrendous mirror selfies, and your inability to own a matching set of coffee mugs.”

A cheer goes up from somewhere behind us. Reid mutters something that sounds likefinally, someone said it.

“But mostly,” I add, quieter now, almost tender. “I promise not to murder you in your sleep.”

Meadow gasps. “Zoe!”

“Joking,” I amend quickly. “Kind of.”

Chase looks delighted, eyes crinkling in the corners as he waits me out.

“And I guess,” I add, because he’s just standing there all smug and sincere and stupidly beautiful under the brunch sunlight, “I’ll love you forever, too.”

A chorus ofawwwserupts from the group, the sound not dissimilar to a gaggle of emotionally compromised barn animals.

Meadow bangs her wand on her little butterfly clipboard. “Now sayI do!”

My head whips down to this tiny five year old tyrant intent on forcing me through the most public display of love I’ve ever endured.

“I do,” Chase says so quickly I nearly miss it. I roll my eyes and he squeezes my hand. “Say I do back, Carlson.”

I try to act annoyed, tryso hardto stay unaffected. But my face is hot and my heart is louder than it should be. And the truth is, I’d do a hell of a lot more than play pretend with this man—even if I’m still pretending I wouldn’t.

“Fine. Yes, I do. Okay? Done.”

“Do you have a kiss?” Meadow asks.

Chase raises an eyebrow at her. “Always.”

He steps forward before I can protest.

“Wait, what are you—”

His arm wraps tight around my waist.

“Chase—don’t you—”

But it’s too late. He fuckingdipsme in a full movie-style swoop. One hand braced behind my neck, the other hitching my thigh up like he’s the goddamn star of a Hallmark movie. I yelp, half-laughing, half-flailing.

“Put me—”

“No take backs,” he murmurs.

And then he kisses me. Soft at first, respectable. Just enough to brush his lips against mine, quick and sweet and innocentbefore pulling back. But then he leans in again with his signature cocky tilt that always,alwaysruins me.

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