I let out a hard breath and lean down to pick up the fallen cup, reaching for a napkin to swipe the mess off the tile. I toss the garbage into the trash can near the door, watching Dean saunter down the sidewalk, pausing just once. He stands there for a moment, faltering, his hand massaging the back of his neck as he glances down at his boots. Then he keeps on walking.
I close my eyes.
I take a deep breath.
Then I say, screw it.
I force my feet into action and push through the doors, jogging down the busy sidewalk with my hair and my inhibitions trailing behind me. “Dean!”
He stops in his tracks, spinning around, his mouth tipping up into a grin when he sees me running towards him. There is a distinct relief mingling with his surprise.
I come to a slow stop in front of him, fluffing my hair back and laughing lightly. “Can we do that over?”
“Please,” he chuckles, his hands on his hips, his eyes twinkling beneath the autumn sun.
“Should I drop the whipped cream again?”
Dean pretends to ponder this, scratching his jaw. “I think we can skip that part.”
I nod, then lean up on my tiptoes to circle my arms around his neck, pressing my chest against his, my heart against his, my mouth grazing the skin of his throat. I breathe him in, and I feel like I am home.
And holy hell, what is that cologne he’s wearing?
Is it new?
Is it legal?
“Hi,” I whisper, feeling the way he shivers against my lips.
Dean’s arms wrap around my waist as he pulls me closer, his tension draining with mine. He inhales deeply, exhaling his doubts and regrets against my temple. “Hi.”
It’s a hi. It’s a hello. It’s a welcome back—I missed you.
We don’t pull apart right away. We savor the feel of our warm bodies melded together in a way that makes my knees tremble and my belly flutter. I try to memorize the way he feels in my arms, hard and safe, buzzing with heat and energy and undeniable chemistry.
I only step back when my toes feel like they’re going to fall off from leaning up on them for so long. I straighten out my dress, unable to hide the tiny smile that feels permanently engraved into my cheeks. “That was better.”
His smile matches mine as we stand there toe to toe. “Much better.”
“Do you want to go to dinner tonight?”
Oh, hello, word vomit. There you are.
I inch backwards just a step, my face heating up from the bold request.
Dean’s eyes flash with something playful, something almost wicked. “Are you asking me out on a date?”
“Ew, no. Never.” I look away, pursing my lips, before glancing right back at him. “But do you?”
“Yes.”
I grin. “Okay.”
“Okay.”
We stare at each other, enchanted and bewitched, temporarily speechless as we absorb the implication of my invitation.
A date. With Dean.
We’ve gone from mortal enemies to two people thrown into the black pits of Hell together. We’ve shared tears, trauma, angry words, and a lot of hot, toxic sex. We’ve been through it all, and yet, we’ve never gone on a date before.
Such a simple thing is filling me with a plethora of tiny sparks, like lightning bugs fluttering around inside my heart. I smile up at him—a little shy, a little nervous, a little flirtatious. “Pick me up at seven?”
Dean nods, pacing backwards with a wink. “See you then, Corabelle.”
I watch him turn around and head down the sidewalk once again, but this time, there is a bounce in his step. There is no hesitation.
This time, he knows he’s coming back.
Chapter Thirty-Three
Lily is hogging my hair straightener as we squeeze together in my tiny bathroom. She has her own date she’s getting ready for… with Lars. The towering tattoo guy from the brewery the night I tweaked out and landed on Dean’s doorstep.
I can see it. He was dark and brooding—a little intimidating, maybe, but Lily can hold her own. I think they would make a sexy couple.
“Okay, so, underwear or no underwear?” Lily wonders, running the wand through her chocolate tresses.
I crinkle my nose. “How frisky are you planning on getting on the first date?”
“You tell me. I was asking you.”
I smack her shoulder, snatching the flat iron from her hand. “I’m planning on taking things slow, for your information. I don’t want to jump into bed with him right away, only to have him drive home to Bloomington tomorrow and settle back into his new life.”
“Oh, please,” Lily counters, reaching for the makeup bag and skimming through it. “You ended a hot and heavy sexual relationship cold turkey, then haven’t seen each other for eight months. There’s no way you’re not getting freaky tonight. Insertion is inevitable.”
“Insertion is inevitable? You frighten me sometimes.”
She puckers her lips in the mirror, debating on a lipstick color. “I vote no underwear.”
“Noted. Thanks.” I shake my head, half irritated, half amused—my general reaction to every word that comes out of Lily’s mouth. Then my insides start to warm at the prospect of… insertion.
Dammit. That’s a terrible word.
And a terrible idea.
I flip off the straightener, fluffing out my hair and gauging my appearance in the bathroom mirror. My makeup is natural but flattering, accentuating my champagne slip dress and my still lightly bronzed skin from the warmer months. I touch my finger to the locket around my neck as a nervous energy climbs up my throat. Then I turn to Lily and ask, “Is this a bad idea?”
My friend doesn’t hesitate as she pops the cap back on her cherry red lipstick choice. “Nope. You need to get laid, girl. You’ve been in vagina limbo.”
Oy.
“I’m not talking about sex, Lily. I meant… spending time with Dean. Reconnecting.” I shoot her a warning glare. “Do not make a joke about the reconnection of body parts, please.”
“Jeez. How immature do you think I am?” She winks, then turns to face me, giving me her full attention. “You want honest?”
“Of course. I know you’re good for it.”
Lily runs her tongue along her teeth, leaning her hip against the sink. “I think it’s been a long time coming. You two are meant for each other, Cora. And you’re in such a better place now—God, I can’t wait to be a godmother to your adorable babies one day.”
“Okay, that escalated a bit,” I frown, but a grin peeks through despite myself. “You really think so? You think there can be a happily ever after for a story like ours?”
“Are you kidding? A story like yours just makes the happily ever after that much sweeter.”
I smile.
Then I picture it: me and Dean.
A future.
Dinner dates, cuddling, movie nights, vacations by the beach. Children. Dogs.
More dogs.
Even more dogs.
I can picture it all—and for the first time ever, I can truly see it.
The knock at my front door makes the butterflies in my stomach take flight.
Lily left twenty minutes ago, and I’ve been sitting on the couch practicing how to breathe.