Page 87 of Merritt and Her Childhood Crush
I raise an eyebrow. She’s wearing a dress. It’s blue and … it’s a dress. Her feet are in sandals. It all looks nice on her. That’s about as far as my understanding of women’s fashion goes.
What does she have to be worried about?
“This looks like something Eloise would wear,” she says. “Doesn’t it?”
Her deep blue dressisa little more colorful than what Merritt normally wears, but honestly, I like this better than the muted blacks and grays she brought from New York. She looks more like herself this way.
I shake my head. “Nah. It would need pelicans on it for Eloise to wear it.”
This at least earns a chuckle. “Really, though—it’s okay?”
I’d forgotten it’s possible for Merritt to be insecure. Even when we were kids she had this solid sense of self, a confidence I envied. A few times, I saw the cracks like this, where the shell of strength broke just a little to reveal a very human sense of self-doubt.
I brush my fingertips down her arm, and she stills, looking up at me with those ocean-blue eyes. “Mer, you look perfect. The color does amazing things for your eyes. Are you sure there isn’t something else going on up here?” I tap a finger to my temple.
Her shoulders drop the tiniest bit. “There’s nothing going on. At least, there shouldn’t be.” She breathes out a little huff. “I never felt insecure in New York. I owned every room I walked into. I could intimidate people with a single word, even just a single look. So why does this feel so scary?”
I tilt my head, studying her. I have a few ideas about why, but I’m not sure how to phrase them without overstepping. Things are still so new between us, and it seems highly possible for me—a man not good with words anyway—to say the wrong thing.
“You should just say whatever it is,” Merritt says softly. “Your thinking is very loud.”
“I was just thinking . . . maybe you’re butting up against memories, against past versions of yourself, and it’s disconcerting. With all you’ve been through lately—it’s enough to have anyone feeling a little off-kilter.”
She nods slowly. “That’s very insightful.”
“I have my moments.”
“You have a lot of them.”
I can tell she has more to say, so I stay put. Making Dante wait a few minutes is the least of my concerns right now.
Merritt finally looks at me and holds my gaze. “On Oakley, it feels like there’s more at stake. Which is weird, because there was alwaysso muchat stake in New York. It was high stakes, lots of money on the line, big deals. But it was neverpersonal. Here though …” She chokes out a laugh. “Honestly, it feels like every single thing is personal. My heart is so tangled up in this place.”
I sure hope it is. Specifically, I hope her heart is way too tangled up with mine to consider going back to that high stakes, New York life.
I hold out my hand, palm up, and she slips her fingers into mine. “I’ve got you.” I give her hand a tiny squeeze, and she squeezes back—hard enough to cut off circulation in my fingertips. “And your outfit does not look stupid. In fact,” I say, leaning closer, “that dress makes it very hard for me not to do things likethis.”
My mouth finds hers, and we continue the conversation—this time without words. Only, I know the things my lips are saying—you’re so beautiful, stay, I I love you—but I don’t know what Merritt is saying back.
She pulls away after not nearly enough time, tugging a loose strand of hair from where it’s caught on my beard. Smiling, she says, “Don’t we need to go? They’re waiting.”
I let my lips trail over her jaw, a little ways down her neck, and back to her lips. “They’re fine.”
This time, when she pulls back, it’s all the way to the door of the car with one firm hand on my chest. “I really want your friends to like me. Making them wait isn’t the best first impression.”
I give her an easy smile, then climb out, meeting her in front of the truck where we lace our fingers together and walk toward the entrance. “Jasmine likes everyone, so you don’t need to worry about her. And you’ve already met Dante, and he thought you were great.”
“Even though I wanted to mess with you about my tile choices?”
“Pretty sure that’swhyhe likes you so much.” I hold open the door. “Come on. Let’s go make them uncomfortable with insufferable PDA.”
She laughs as she walks inside, brushing up against me as she does. On purpose, I’m sure, based on the little smirk tugging at her mouth. “You sure we wouldn’t be makingyouuncomfortable?”
I pull her toward me, tucking her under my arm as I glance around for Dante. He waves from a table near the back. His grin tells me he knows exactly why we were late. “Nah. I think Frank desensitized me with his TikToks. All of Oakley has already seen us kissing anyway. Might as well expand our reach.”
Dante and Jasmine greet us with hugs, and Merritt scoots her chair closer to mine as we sit down, gripping my hand under the table.It’s challenging to flip through a menu one-handed, but I don’t mind.
“I heard you tried to prank this guy,” Jasmine says to Merritt. “Something about Versailles tile?”
