Page 121 of A Really Bad Idea

I look up him with a dropped jaw as I feel my heart plummet.

I feel like crying.

Scratch that.

I am crying.

Goddamn it.

“Who says that anyway? We can’t be friends. We’re not in high school. You can’t just eradicate twenty-some-odd years of friendship like that.” I snap my fingers to make the point.

At the sight of my tears, he treads toward me in two steps and holds out a hand. “Dance with me,” he says.

I look up at him with my hand on my cheek, rubbing away a tear.

“Don’t appease me.” I rub the other cheek.

He doesn’t take no for an answer. “Dance with me, Meadow.”

I look up into his eyes. The flecks of gold are illuminated by the amber streetlights of the park. I might hate him, but I’m a glutton for this man, so I take his hand and let him pull me up to a standing position.

His hand snakes around my waist as his other grabs my hand and holds it close to his chest. I pick at the collar of his shirt as he sways his hips and dances to no music, just the sound of rushing water as the beat.

Placing my hand on his shoulder, I step further into him, feeling the protective feeling of his hand on the small of my back, and let out a sigh.

He smells so good. Not just his cologne or the fine Italian suit. It’s the sinful scent of testosterone-laden man. The natural scent of him when he’s naked in bed.

I open my mouth to speak, but I have no words. I don’t know what else to say. His beating heart is pressed against our joined knuckles, like a drum to the melody of the night. The slight breeze is the poetic melody of a flute and the water weaving the heavenly notes of a piano.

I move my hand to his neck and rest my head against his beating heart. He pulls me impossibly close. We’re two people resembling one.

“How did you know I was here?”

His chin rests against my head. “I went to your apartment first, but Sal said you hadn’t come home yet, so I walked into the park.”

I let out a groan. “There was a day when I had an unpredictable social calendar.”

The light rumble in his chest radiates through mine. “Trust me, you’re still unpredictable.”

It’s dark. It’s late. My entire day has been a roller coaster of emotions. I step back from his embrace, but his hand that’s gripping mine pulls me back. The breeze brushes against my cheek, forcing a tendril of hair to blow in front of my face.

With a genuine smile and eyes that glaze over, glittering with emotion, he pushes the tendril behind my ear. He puts a hand in his pocket and takes out a shiny copper penny.

“Make a wish,” he says.

“I don’t believe in wishes anymore.”

My words seem to cause him distress because his brows are turned down, and his lips are parted.

“Do you know what I wish for?” he asks.

“You can’t tell me or else it won’t come true.”

“Or maybe it will.” With a fierce determination, Christian drops down on one knee and holds the penny up between us. “Meadow Duvane—”

“What are you doing?” I ask rather abruptly.

He laughs, seemingly at himself. “What does it look like I’m doing?”