Page 257
Then his gaze drops to the carrier.
“The cat, too?”
“Unfortunately, he insisted.”
Bishop stands. “What the hell are you doing here?”
I lift the cheesecake.
“Bringing you dessert.”
He looks from the pie to my face. “Delaney.”
The way he says my name makes my stomach flutter.
“What?”
“You're supposed to be in Evergreen.”
“I was.”
“It's Thanksgiving.”
“I'm aware.”
“Your family—”
“Is perfectly fine without me for one evening.”
He takes a step toward me. “Becks.”
I set the carrier down and straighten.
“Look, I know you said you were fine spending your birthday alone. And maybe you were. But I wasn't particularly thrilled about the idea.”
He doesn't say anything. So naturally, I keep talking.
“Mom sent your favorite cheesecake. Dad said happy birthday. Declan apparently thinks you're ignoring him, which, honestly, is probably fair. And I brought leftovers because I figured whatever you ordered for dinner wasn't nearly as good as Mom's turkey.”
His gaze stays on mine.
“And,” I add, lifting my chin, “I may have purchased a candle.”
A faint smile appears.
“A candle?”
“Just one. I considered getting twenty-eight, but I figured setting off the fire alarms would be a terrible way to celebrate.”
He laughs.
It's quiet. Then he reaches for me. One hand slides around my waist, the other settling against the back of my neck.
And before I can say anything else, he kisses me.
Not hurried. Not desperate. Just a long, warm kiss that makes the drive and the uncertainty and every mile between Evergreen and Chicago disappear.
When he pulls back, he keeps his forehead against mine.
