Page 171 of Never Not Friends

I stare at my hands. “I spent so many years hiding my feelings so I didn’t hurt Juliet. And then that’s exactly what ended up happening.”

“But do you regret it?”

My eyes lift to meet his gaze. “Not in this moment.”

“Good.” He smiles.

“Is it good? I mean, I don’t even know what we’re doing here. Two weeks ago, you loved Juliet. You were marrying her, and now we’re on a date, pretending like that wasn’t just fourteen days ago.”

“Emma.” His hand reaches across the table and grabs mine. And somehow that tiny touch feels more intimate than anything else ever has. “I’m not pretending like everything with Juliet didn’t happen. But I also don’t want to pretend like I don’t have feelings for you…because I do.”

I stare back at him, my heart thrumming wildly.

“I’m willing to wait until you’re ready, Emma. But I’m not going to pretend like we’re just friends. I’m tired of this whole friend thing. Aren’t you?”

I watch as his fingers thread through mine.

“Yeah.” I smile, blinking back tears. “I don’t really want to be friends. I want more. I’ve always wanted more.”

His eyes change—subtle, but I see the way hope lifts his smile.

His thumb moves slowly over my knuckle, and for once, I don’t take my words back or try to soften them.

I want Vinny Brooks.

And after all these years, I can finally say it out loud.

EMMA

Vinny follows me through the gate to the stairs along the side of the garage.

“So when’s our second date?”

“You tell me.”

“Well, I’m just wondering when I’m going to look like an idiot in my sailboat shirt.”

I clutch the Last Chance bag against my side. “You made the game up.”

“Before I knew you were going to pick a shirt covered in pink sailboats.”

“Tiny pink sailboats.”

“That changes everything,” he teases.

I laugh as we climb the stairs. Vinny is right behind me. Like, right behind me. Which I only know because I’m hyperaware of everything about him right now.

His footsteps.

His breathing.

The fact that his hand brushed my lower back when I started up the stairs.

And the fact that, in approximately five seconds, we’re going to reach my door where the date will end. Where normal people say goodnight. Where people who have spent the last several hours openly admitting that they want to be more than friends would kiss.

The thought hits me with enough force that I almost miss the step.

“You okay?” There goes his hand on my lower back again.