Page 135 of Cinderella Is Faking It

“Ohmygod.” Del climbed out of her seat, only to drop back against the side of her car. Her pupils were blown wide, and her chest was rising fast.

“You good?” I asked as I stepped in front of her, trying to differentiate between adrenaline rush and panic attack.

“That was amazing.” She grabbed me by the collar and pulled me down into a feverish kiss. Adrenaline rush. Definitely. And I had no problem with that, kissing her like the fate of the entire Formula One depended on it. Once she had her fill, she shoved me back again with just as much fervor, lips trembling. “I want to go again. And I want to tear your clothes off. And I want donuts. Not in that order.”

“I think we can manage all three, starting with the food.” I took her hand and led her over to the useless block of concrete, where our friends had set up camp.

Defne was now swaddled in two winter coats and a sleeping bag, gripping an iPad, while Isaac and Tabitha sat on either side of her - Tabitha with her camera, and Isaac with half a box of donuts.

“So, who won?” Del asked, climbing up on the platform to narrow her eyes at Tabitha’s camera screen.

“It’s a tie,” she said.

“Oh, come on.” I settled onto the platform and glanced over Delilah’s shoulder at the paused video.

“Does that mean you both lose?” Isaac asked.

“I think we both win.” Del shrugged and leaned over her friends to grab a donut, before she unceremoniously climbed into my lap, one arm wrapped around my neck. My arms automatically found their way around her waist, where they belonged.

“I only have one trophy.” Defne held up a small golden matchbox car.

“Give it to Delilah,” Victor piped up and all heads swiveled to the iPad in Defne’s lap. Cordelia, on the other side of the video call, tilted her camera to bring Victor into view. “If she hadn’t slowed down on the last turn, she would have won.”

“I didnotslow down.” Even though she delivered the words with a straight face, her throat hitched, giving away her blatant lie. “We both won. We can share custody of the trophy.”

I stayed silent and pressed a kiss to the back of her head. I had a feeling I’d spend the rest of my life trying to keep up with her.

Tabitha queued up the footage of the race again and they started bickering about whether or not Del had actually slowed down. When they all started speaking over one another, Del shook her head and leaned back, wiggling to slide deeper into my lap. If she wasn’t careful, I’d end up whisking her back into the car and parking it on the other side of the property - just to show her how much fun seat belts could be.

“August Beckett,” she sighed and pressed a kiss to the dip between my jaw and ear. I hummed in appreciation. “I have a confession.”

“Delilah Edwards,” I replied, smiling down at her, and stealing a kiss from her lips, “I already know that you lied about slowing down.”

She scrunched up her nose at me. “No.”

“No?”

“I trust you and… I love you,” she whispered. It was the first time she said those words. I had told her many times since that night she showed up on my doorstep with a library card, but I’d made it very clear that she didn’t have to say it back. That I’d rather know she trusted me than lie about loving me. And yet, hearing her say those words, my chest felt too small for the warmth flooding it.

Her big ocean eyes roamed over my face, waiting for me, watching my reaction. I had no reason to stop the smile spreading on my lips. “I love you, too, Delilah, and I trust you.”

EPILOGUE

February 21st

Brody leaned over the counter,brows drawn up to her hairline. “Please,” I laughed, “I’m not messing it up. Back off.”

“Are you sure about that?”

I rolled my eyes at her and placed the small piece of green garnish on top of the frittata slice. “Look. It’s perfect.”

To be fair, she’d done most of the cooking after witnessing me crack one egg and most of it landing on the kitchen floor. She had allowed me to plate the food though, but she generally trusted me in the kitchen just as much as her uncle did: not at all.

“What’s going on here?” Beck asked when he stepped into the kitchen mid-tie-knot. Neither Brody, nor I usually got up before him, let alone prepped breakfast. I’d snuck out of bed at 4:30 to make this work.

“We made frittata,” I replied with a big smile. He grimaced.

“Imade frittata,” Brody cackled.

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