Page 162 of My Merry Mistake
He nods slowly, watching me sort this all out because I still haven’t gotten it all straight in my mind.
“I don’t have all the answers,” I say.
His eyes go comically wide, and I can practicallyhearthe quippy gears churning up his response in his head.
“Shocking, right?” I grin. “I’m learning that it’s okay not to have everything figured out.”
He appears to be holding in a smile. He’s failing.
“But I do know that you’re kind.” I sign the word as I say it. “And you’re good. You saved the tutoring club because some kid you didn’t know wrote a letter. And now you hang out with that kid and take him to see Santa. You show up for the people you care about—” I look at him. “And you showed up for me too.”
“Twice.” He grins.
“Twice,” I agree. “Both times I was at my absolute lowest.” My gaze drops to my shoes, and I kick at a piece of loose gravel. “So. That’s it. I’m done being proud and stubborn, and I’m done not admitting when things are good. And fun.”
His expression is disbelief, and I get it—part of me can’t believe any of this either.
He steps closer, lifts his hand, and his thumb brushes across my cheek. His eyes catch the late morning light, sparkling with the promise of whatever comes next, and he looks at me so fully I wonder if anyone has ever seen me this clearly before.
“You said the ball was in my court,” I say. “So, I guess this is me, shooting my shot.”
He holds my gaze for three seconds that feel like three years, then says, “Slam dunk.” He pulls me into his chest, arms tight around my back. His mouth crashes onto mine, and every ounce of nervous energy inside me melts away. All the true feelings I’ve held back rise to the surface as one hand rests at the back of my neck, holding my face so gently you’d think it was porcelain.
His kisses aren’t tentative or polite—this is a man who knows what he wants. And I’m thrilled when I wrap my head around the idea that what he wants is me.
He pulls back, eyes searching, hands holding my face, thumb brushing softly across my cheeks in one smooth, gentle motion.
“I can’t give you absolutes that this is going to go exactly as you planned.”
I smile. “I know.”
“And last I checked, I can’t predict the future.”
“I know that too.”
“But,” he touches his forehead to mine. “No matter what, the one thing Icanpromise is that whatever happens, we’ll figure it out together.” He leans in and kisses me again, eyes open, like he’s afraid if he closes them this will all wash away.
“I believe you,” I whisper.
He smiles against my mouth, and I smile right back. Then the front door of the beautiful, sprawling house swings open, and a loud commotion spills out, like a clown car filled with linebackers, onto the quiet lawn.
“Oh no,” Finn says with a light laugh. “Are you even ready for this?”
I grin. “I’m so ready.”
“You’re about to get dropped in the deep end with the nosiest, loudest, most obnoxious?—”
“Uncle Finn, what were youdoingto her? Why were you sucking her face off?” An adorable little girl runs a circle around us, another little girl trailing close behind.
He pulls back, and we both laugh as the questions continue.
“Finn, bring that girl inside,” his mom hollers from the porch. “You’re both going to freeze out there.”
“I dunno, she’s keeping me warm because she’s so hot,” he calls back, followed by a chorus of “Ohhhhh!!” from his brothers.
“So, this is what I’m getting myself into with you, huh?” We start walking toward the house.
He shrugs, faux innocence on his face.
