Page 32 of My Not-Quite Valentine

“You okay?” Thomas asks under his breath, just quiet enough that Jason won’t hear. “I know that was a lot.”

“I’m okay,” I say, giving him a small smile. And I mean it. After the emotional whiplash of the past twenty-four hours—crying in front of him, admitting we love each other, having sex, becoming boyfriends, and now apparently circling the idea of marriage—I feel more okay than I have in years. “You?”

“Never better,” he says, smiling back. Then he leans in and kisses me—soft, slow, lingering just long enough to make my heart trip.

Across the kitchen, Jason groans. “I said I’m happy for you, not that I want front-row seats to the PDA.”

Thomas laughs against my mouth and pulls back, eyes crinkling.

“Sorry, Jase,” we both say at the same time—not sounding sorry at all.

THE END