Page 86 of One Night with Number Nineteen

If resentments will replace love.

No, not love.

We haven’t even woken up together.

It’s like—as in I like the person he is, like how he treats Ollie and me, like how considerate and smart and hardworking he is.

I like him.

But I’m not the Lainey I was.

Liking—or even loving a man—won’t ever be enough, not fully.

Because if things change…if they even threaten to change, I know I won’t be her again.

I can’t be her again.

The thought brings a cold chill to my nape.

Or maybe that’s the temperature dropping as the wind picks up, rustling the branches, sending leaves dropping to the ground around me.

I shiver and close the lid, rubbing at my nape as I head for the porch and my glass of wine.

Only when I get there, it’s not where I left it.

Frowning, I turn in a circle, looking for it to have fallen over, to have rolled onto the grass.

But there’s no sign of it—no glass, no spilled wine. Nothing.

“What the⁠—”

The back door flies open, and Faye rushes out.

“Did you take my wine glass?” I ask.

She skids to a halt, brows pulling together. “What? No, why would I take your glass?”

“To refill it?” It’s a hopeful question.

Her lips twitch. “Sorry to disappoint, but I was fully entrenched in The Book That Better Freaking Be Written Because It’s So Freaking Good.”

“Really?” I ask, nibbling at my bottom lip.

“Really,” she says.

I inhale, exhale. “Really?”

“Really,” she repeats, snagging my arm and dragging me forward. “Maybe your raccoon friend stole it.”

I slant a look at the trees, know stranger things are possible. “Maybe,” I tell her on a shrug.

“Anyway, who cares? Let’s get you another glass and you can fill me in on all things sexy Viking-esque hero who’s going to steal your heroine’s heart.”

Laughing, I rest my head on her shoulder. “Now that I can do.”

We go inside. We eat and drink and laugh and talk…

Until I forget all about the missing wineglass.