Page 57

“That’s right,” she agrees. Then she reaches over and wipes a smear of sauce from the corner of his mouth. With her thumb. Quick and practiced, the way you do when you’ve done it a hundred times and plan to do it a hundred more.

Shiloh doesn’t even flinch. He leans into it. +]

I watch her do it.

And I see what it costs her. Just for a second, when she pulls her hand back. The way she swallows. The way her smile wobbles before she gets it steady again.

She wants to mean something to him. And somehow that solidifies how much she already means to me.

This is why. Again, I remind myself.

Every time I think the attraction is going to become the primary problem, she does something like that.

Something quiet. Something I couldn’t have put into the contract because I wouldn’t have known how to describe it.

Noelle catches me looking at her again.

“What?” she asks.

“Nothing.”

Her eyes narrow. “You keep doing that.”

“Doing what?”

“Looking at me.”

I almost laugh.

“You’re sitting across from me.”

“Do I have sauce on my face?”

“No.”

“So you’re just looking?”

“Would you prefer I don’t?” I ask with a cock of my brow.

“No.” The word comes too fast. Her eyes widen. She clears her throat. “I mean, you can look wherever you want. They’re your eyes. Obviously.”

“My eyes.”

“Yep.”

“Thank you for your permission.”

“You’re welcome.” She takes a very large bite of lasagna, and I look down at my plate before I smile.

Apparently Shiloh’s bedtime is now eight. It was seven-thirty when I left.

“He’s older now,” Noelle explains.

“It was a month.”

“A lot can happen in a month.”

“I’ve noticed.”