Page 80 of Fool Me

“If there’s something in this world that outshines you, I haven’t found it yet.” He nips at my ear causing me to suck in a breath through my teeth. “And it’s certainly not baseball or goats.”

My goodbyes to Vivi, her family, and the girls are quick by design. When I return to Atlas’s side, he’s extracting himself from Luca’s last-ditch efforts to hook him into a longer conversation about the ethics of goat yoga.

“I’m afraid my cautionary tale about yoga mats and goat feces will have to wait until tomorrow,” Atlas says when I plant myself against his side.

Luca frowns and then his eyes flick to my palm sliding against Atlas’s big one, reaching out for me. “Sorry, Luc, I’m tired and I need someone to tuck me in.”

“I’ll tuck you in,” one of the twins yells, only for Levi to slap the back of his head.

Atlas’s grip on my hand tightens. Granting him a reassuring squeeze, I wrap my other arm around his forearm.

“Dude, read the room!” Vivi yells at her younger brother before giving Atlas and me an appraising look. We’re acting much more like a couple than two people who are faking it.

“Night, everyone!” I holler over my shoulder as I lead him away from the stone patio.

Slowly, the feelings that were pushed under the surface by the heaviness as of late climb as we take the stairs back to the apartment. By the time we’re pushing through the door and stepping inside, the tension between us is clinging to my body like a second skin.

Atlas grips the back of his neck, scanning the space like he’s looking for an escape route or answers to ease the lingering questions between us.

“Did you want the bathroom first to wash up, or . . .”

“You can have it,” I say.

“Take it,” he says at the same time.

I smile. We’ve never been this awkward together, not even when I ambushed him with our first kiss and the plan to fake date.

“Actually, I have to get some things organized for the wedding tomorrow. You’d be doing me a favor if you went first.”

With a frown the size of Texas, he relents. It seems to go against his moral fiber, but I really do have things to sort outbefore the chaos of tomorrow starts. One by one, I cross things off my mental checklist, pulling my dress from its travel bag and plugging in the steamer I brought. Then, I do a final read-through of my maid-of-honor speech and make sure my clutch is stocked with wedding day survival essentials.

I’m just finishing when he steps out of the bathroom, a pair of basketball shorts hanging low on his hips.

“It’s all yours. Is there anything I can help you with for tomorrow?”

“Nope. All set.”

He tugs on his neck, a bead of water dripping from the curl on his forehead and landing on his pec. He says something else, but I’m so enraptured by that one bead of water that I temporarily lose my ability to focus on anything else.

“What was that?”

“If you’re good, I’ll just get the pull-out couch made up.”

I do what any sane woman would do and let him, damn near sprinting to the bathroom to get away from the weirdness and hoping it blows away with the crosswind currently blowing through the apartment.

Once I’m safely inside the privacy of the bathroom, my hand clamps over my mouth to cover a laugh that I can’t stop because this is so ridiculous . . . so trivial in the grand scheme of things, but it’s also painfully normal, and that sends joy skittering through me. Atlas, being a mess over us, is the light at the end of my tunnel.

He’s the light in everything. Since the moment I met him, I’ve let him help me in ways I’ve never relied on anyone else.

That fact sinks in deeper as I wash my hair and replay the last month in my mind.

How easily we connected that first night. The care he took to verify our pizza was made separately so I wouldn’t be exposed to cross contamination. Then on our date ordering somethingI could eat at the steakhouse, just in case. Every moment since, from the way he opened up to me on our hike after his emergency surgery to later, when he took care of me like I was the most important thing in the world. He’s made me feel cherished and wanted each step of the way.

There’s nothing more real than that.

And that realization has me slipping into the tank and boxers I brought to wear to bed before I’m dry. I step out of the steam to find a perplexed-looking Atlas running a hand over his jaw as he stares down at the couch.

“Did the couch outsmart you, Doc?”

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