My chest feels heavy, like I have too much air, or too much blood, or maybe my organs have suddenly tripled in size. I knew that I mattered to him; I just never realized it could be this much.

“I need you to go back to being an asshole for a few minutes before I say something I’m not ready for.”

“I wasn’t that bad.” King looks like he wants to smile by the way his cheeks move up, but it quickly becomes a wince. “Was I?”

A smirk pulls at my lips as I nod. “You were a class-A asshole at times. It was easier when I could hate you.”

“I don’t want you to hate me.”

“I don’t want to care about you this much,” I admit.

“I don’t want you to stop.” King’s eyes are warm, gentle as they hold mine. The desire to have him hold me and fix this, fix everything, is so tempting.

“All my life people have been there when it was convenient, when it benefited them.”

“I want to be there for all of it, the good, bad, ugly, and everything in between.”

“That’s easy to say now.”

“The last six months have been anything but easy and good. Still, look where we are. Look where we’re going, Lo.” King’s voice is calm and assured as he takes a step closer to me, not even slightly deterred or defensive about my concern. It makes something warm and tingly to spread through my entire body.

“You need to go talk to Kenzie.”

“First I need to make sure you’re okay. I want you to tell me you aren’t going to let what she’s done affect us.”

“It won’t. It might make living with her more difficult, but it doesn’t change anything between us. Besides, I get off on proving people wrong.” Eyebrows raised, he struggles to conceal his smile. “Don’t even,” I say, raising a hand. “That wasn’t intended to be dirty.”

“Yet it was. I like that you think dirty. No need to hide it.”

“Go talk to your sister.”

“Going.” He doesn’t move though. King’s hand curves around my waist, pulling me closer to him as he takes a step forward. We kiss for several long moments, and while it leaves me breathless and with the promise of all he can make me feel, it isn’t a hot kiss filled with lust. It’s packed with passion and sincerity, ensuring me that everything is going to be okay.

I HAVEN’T seen Kenzie for two days, not since King came back into the office, where I waited for him to sort through his family drama, and told me Kash was giving her a ride home. I didn’t pry … much. I knew by his tired expression that he was feeling remorseful for what he had yelled at her. I feel a little guilty that I’m so relieved to not have seen her. The inevitable conversation between us in an attempt to iron things out is without a doubt going to be awkward and forced.

The doorbell rings, distracting me from going through the contents of my closet once more.

“Here,” Allie says, shoving a garment bag forward as I open the door.

“What is it?”

“Your date with King is tonight, right?”

“Yeah…”

“This is what you’re going to wear.”

“What is it?” My hands are already pulling down the zipper, not patient enough to wait for her reply. “Allie!” I squeal, pushing back each side of the bag.

“If you get anything on it, I’m going to kill you,” she threatens as I lift the beautiful handmade dress so I can fully admire it. It’s one of the pieces she’s going to present during the fashion show. I recognize the color, but that’s all. There have been two dresses she’s been working on that I have barely seen, this being one of them.

“Are you sure?

“Of course I’m not. But I am sure that this is a big deal to you, and therefore you need to be dressed to the nines.”

“This is like the twenties.”

Allie smiles with pride and drops a bag on the kitchen counter. “Let’s get you ready.”

The dress is like a second skin. A flawless, shimmering, surprisingly heavy second skin. It’s emerald and falls several inches past my knee in waves of hand-sewn beading. When she initially shared the idea, I regret to say I looked at her with wide eyes, trying to hide how unattractive the idea seemed. Now, I’m amazed. The waist extends for my height and curves to my body, knowing of my bust and hips perfectly.

I leave my straightened hair around my shoulders, and while it feels wrong to hide any of the dress, Allie insists it will allow me to be casual enough to fit into nearly any restaurant that King chooses.

“Shit! He’s early!” Allie cries. She’s only a few steps behind me, watching over my shoulder as I apply another coat of mascara.

I take a deep breath as Allie moves to the front door. She turns, looking over her shoulder for me to confirm I’m ready before pulling it open.

“You clean up nice,” she says.

Curiosity has me moving forward around my easel and beside Allie. She’s wrong. He cleans up to look like a Calvin Klein model.

King is dressed in charcoal gray slacks and a navy blue shirt that both fit him so well I wonder if they were tailored to fit him. At the very least, I know Summer was involved. I’m staring at his hands, mesmerized by how even accompanied by fancy dress clothes they reveal hints of tricks gone bad, grease, and hard work. It makes my desire to have them on me—all over me—become my sole thought.

A sharp elbow to the back of my ribs has my eyes darting up to see that King is just as lost.

“Fair-y godmother,” Allie says quietly. “Don’t order anything with a cream or red sauce. They stain.”

King’s eyebrows raise, but Allie doesn’t notice. She’s packing things back into her bag. She slips around me and behind King and doesn’t turn around again, making her way downstairs.

“No red or cream sauce?”

“She made this dress. It’s the least I can do.”

His eyes widen, peering over it once more. “She’s definitely climbing the charts to favorite person status. First heels, now this.” His hand sweeps down the length of me but several inches away, making that yearning for his touch grow more prominent.

I’m grateful I’ve been forced to wear heels lately; otherwise, I know I would be as nervous about them as I am this dress as we head down the stairs, my hand resting in the crook of his arm. It’s cool outside, the black shawl draped over my shoulders barely serving as a barrier, but thankfully it’s dry.

“How are classes going?”

“Good,” I answer while attempting to fasten my seatbelt and sneak another look at him before the dome lights dim. It’s starting to stay light later, but the sun still set a couple hours ago.

“Did you get your submission in?”

Since mailing my portfolio I’ve felt a heavy weight in my chest each and every time I consider the possible outcomes. “Yeah. I mailed it on Tuesday.”

I catch the slight lurch of King’s chin and his hand tightening around the steering wheel. “You’re going to love it. Traveling and working on paintings from artists you’ve studied. It will be like a dream come true.”

“They haven’t said yes.”

“They won’t be able to say no.”

I don’t know which possibility scares me more.

“There’s this restaurant in Florence, it’s called 13 Gobi. When you get there, you have to go. Their food is like nothing you’ve ever tasted before. It’s where I first started to really appreciate eating and wanted to learn to cook.”

“I doubt it will leave the same impression on me.”

King flashes his smile, the dim lighting from the dash and passing cars teasing at what they expose, hiding so much that my imagination draws most of it.

“You haven’t asked where we’re going yet,” King says as we pull to a stop at a light.

“Call me weird, but I like surprises.” Not to mention it seems rude to ask him. I fear he’s going to spend an obscene amount of money going anywhere our attire is set for.

“Goes with your theme of surprising others with your work, huh?”