Page 63 of Say You Remember Me
I nodded. “I felt like such an idiot for freaking out so bad.” I scoffed, wiping at my tears. “I mean, I was relieved he was alive. But there was no coming back from that.”
“I can imagine.”
“Anyway, he packed his things and moved in with her after that. And we’ve been splitting custody of Grant ever since.”
Ian was silent for a beat, but when I looked up, his face was full of tenderness. “I’m so sorry you went through all of that. You didn’t deserve any of it.” He paused, his voice low and certain. “You’re incredibly strong, Maddie. Any man would be lucky to be with someone as amazing as you. And he was an idiot for not seeing that.”
“Thank you.” A faint smile touched my lips, a feeling of warmth blooming in my chest at his words. “It…really did suck. But I still have Grant, at least. And he’s worth everything.”
We sat together quietly, the weight of what I’d shared sinking in. I leaned into Ian’s shoulder, feeling an unexpected comfort in his presence. It was something I hadn’t felt in such a long time.
After a while, he pressed a soft kiss to my forehead, his touch so gentle and perfect it made my heart flutter. “Still want to watch that movie?” he asked, his voice low, almost hesitant, as if he didn’t really want the moment to end.
I glanced at the time on the clock across the room. “It’s late. You probably need to get a good night’s rest before your big presentation tomorrow.”
“You’re aterribleinfluence, Maddie.” A slow smile spread across his face, and his brows arched teasingly. “Always trying to make me responsible.”
I laughed softly, the sound breaking the tension in the air—just a little. “Someone has to. I hear your assistant is slacking these days.”
“Hmm,” he murmured, pretending to consider. “Shehasbeen sneaking into my room in pajamas. Very unprofessional.”
We both laughed, but neither of us moved to get up. Instead, Ian shifted slightly, pulling me closer until I was tucked against him, his arm draped over my shoulder. I let myself lean into him, the warmth of his body comforting, grounding, despite the storm of emotions churning inside me.
His fingers began tracing light, lazy lines along my shoulder, and I had to fight the thrill that shot through me with each pass. My heart picked up speed, thudding harder with every slow, casual stroke of his hand. Then he leaned down again, pressing another soft kiss to my forehead.
This time, it felt different—longer, more lingering. Like he was trying to tell me something with the simple press of his lips.
I breathed in his scent, fresh and warm, with just a hint of something woodsy and masculine that made my pulse race. My gaze drifted to his lips without meaning to, and before I could stop myself, I found myself wondering what he was thinking. What he wanted.
As if he could read my mind, Ian tilted his head, his voice quiet as he mumbled, “I keep forgetting we work together…and that we probably shouldn’t be sitting in my room like this.”
My breath hitched at the way he said it—soft, low, and laced with something deeper. It took me a moment to gather my thoughts, but with my voice barely above a whisper, I admitted, “I’m having a hard time remembering that, too.”
Ian’s eyes locked onto mine, dark and intense, his gaze sweeping over my face and finally settling on my lips. My heart hammered, and I swallowed, trying to keep my thoughts from slipping too far into the realm of “what if.”
“But maybe it’s okay to be like this,” he murmured, his hand still resting on my shoulder, his thumb grazing the bare skin just above my collarbone. “You’re my fiancée this weekend, anyway.”
I smiled, barely able to think straight under the warmth of his touch. “I am wearing your fancy ring,” I whispered, lifting my hand slightly so it caught the light.
His eyes followed the motion, and when he looked back at me, something in his expression deepened, softened—but somehow sharpened, too. “It’s probably only right that we practice being close like this…you know, just in case we have to ramp up our PDA tomorrow,” he said, his voice low and gravelly.
“I think you’re right,” I managed to say, my voice no more than a whisper, as I could barely breathe in that moment. “Just to make sure we know what we’re doing.”
He hesitated, and for a second, the room seemed to go completely still. And then, slowly, he leaned in, his hand lifting to cradle my face as his lips brushed against mine.
The first touch was gentle, tentative—like he was savoring the moment as much as I was. His lips were warm and soft, and he tasted faintly of mouthwash—like he’d intentionally freshened his breath before I came back to his room.
Like he’d almost been hoping for this.
But this is just pretend,I tried to remind myself.None of this can go past this weekend.
But my mind didn’t seem too concerned about reality in that moment since the thought drifted away as soon as his fingers threaded themselves into my hair, pulling me closer to him.
He kissed me again, firmer this time, and I felt a soft, aching warmth bloom deep in my chest. I couldn’t stop myself from responding, pressing my lips against his, feeling the shift in his breathing—slightly heavier now, more ragged.
One of his hands slid from my shoulder, his fingers trailing lower, gliding down my back in slow, deliberate strokes. Each touch sent tiny sparks down my spine, heating my skin and quickening my pulse.
I melted into the kiss, letting the world narrow to just him—the way his mouth moved against mine, the way one hand tangled in my hair, cradling the back of my head as the other pressed warmly against the curve of my lower back, drawing me impossibly closer. My mind scrambled to remind me that this was temporary, that it couldn’t go anywhere.
