institute not far from the physiotherapy school I’ve been checking out.”
All noise vanishes. Midblink, my eyelids freeze.
“In Florida?” The words barely make it past my throat.
His broad chest expands as he inhales, a soft, “Uh huh,” floating out on a breath.
“You want me to check out a school in Florida?” I ask again to be sure.
He scoots his chair closer, his knee grazing mine, both of us leaning closer to tune out our chatty group. One of his hands lands on my thigh, the other wraps around my neck. “Nina Gabri, I’d like you to come to Florida with me. I don’t want this to end. I don’t want us to end. Things are still sketchy with my dad, and I’m feeling like I need to be there. But I want you to come, too…if it’s what you want.”
I try to latch onto one of the errant thoughts running through my mind, a thousand emotions rolling inside of me. Sam—my Sam—wants me to move to Florida. With him.
He didn’t use the one word I waited for with bated breath, those four letters never making an appearance, but he doesn’t want us to end. The guy I’m in love with—the one who has officially taken my virginity and ruined me for all future sexual exploits, the one who accepts me for me, despite my ongoing list of quirks—that guy wants to live with me. My heart swells. There is, however, one part of his confession that doesn’t sit well. The part where he said Nina Gabri. Not Pininfarina.
Flashes of the Public Speaking Incident send my full heart pounding and my stomach plummeting. I trusted Sam enough to tell him why I was afraid to be intimate with him and the only thing he made me feel was cherished. Accepted. If I move away from my family to be with him, I have to trust him one hundred percent. I glance at my purse resting by my feet, knowing my passport is tucked inside. I’m surprised it’s not glowing.
Sam squeezes my thigh. “What do you say, Nina? Will you come to Florida?”
I look up from my purse, the vulnerability on his face heart-melting. Real name or not, hearing I love you or not, I know my answer. There’s only ever been one. “Yes.” I nod quickly, both of us now grinning like idiots. “Yes, yes, yes! Does that mean you’ve decided on physio?”
He stares at me for several long beats and steals a slow, deep kiss. Reluctantly, he pulls back. “Yeah—physio. I still have to finish my last year, but the more I’ve thought about it, the more I realize it’s what I want. It’ll be rough on my dad, but I’ll regret not going for it.” A mad cackle from Bruno makes us both flinch. Sam grabs my hand and leans his elbows on the table. “Look at us all adult-like with future plans and shit. Who knew I’d leave for this trip and come home with you in my life, and a career ahead of me?” Lifting my hand, he brushes his lips over each knuckle. He lowers his voice. “Lucky isn’t a word I’d have used to describe myself a year ago. Not even close. But it’s the only one that comes to mind now.”
Sam and his perfect words.
“You have no idea,” I say, stealing his line.
I’m moving to Florida. With Hot Guy. And I have a possible goal. Now I can’t wait to get to a computer and research schools. Me. A chef. A culinary artist. Or a personal cook. Mom will go ballistic in the best possible way when I tell her, especially if I say my inner goddess is guiding me to become my true self. If I ever need to convince Mom of anything, I throw in the word goddess, and she’s putty in my hands. Still, I’m not sure how she’ll react to me moving away more permanently.
Sam turns to our friends and pounds the table, interrupting their chatter. “Pass the vodka, Callum. A toast is in order.” He pushes up from the table and goes to the counter to get shot glasses.
I watch his sexy backside, barely noticing his limp. It’s such a part of him it fades to the background, and I’m proud he’s found the confidence to wear shorts again.
Then I hear, “Holy shit. Who chewed his legs?”
A dropping pin could shatter the silence.
“Fucking cunt,” drips from Leigh like venom.
Reese. She’s dolled up to the nines, her blond hair spilling over