Page 115 of Best Wrong Thing

We have to leave far sooner than I’d like to drive to the summit of the volcano. Like last time, we arrive just before the sunset.

Jacob and I hold each other as the sky becomes a dramatic tapestry of red, orange, and deepening blue. As the sun dips below the horizon, Jacob cups my cheek and turns my face for a long, slow kiss. My heart patters throughout. I return his kiss. Emotion builds up in my chest and lodges in my throat. Damn, I love him. Why did it take me so long to figure it out? When did I start loving him? I’ll never be able to pinpoint the exact moment, nor does it matter. All that matters is how I feel now and that he feels the same way. If his kiss is anything to go by, he loves me as deeply as I love him. I can no longer think of him as the best wrong thing that’s ever happened to me because being with him is so right.

“Archer—”

“Yeah?”

“I want my future to be with you.”

My heart skips. “Yeah? I want mine to be with you too.”

“We’ve got lots to figure out, haven’t we?”

“Yes, but we can do that as we go along. Take things one step at a time. Relationships are a journey, not a destination.”

Jacob raises his eyebrows. “How very profound.”

“I was going for romantic.”

He brushes his lips against mine. “It was very romantic.” The light brush of his mouth becomes a deep and wonderful kiss. “I’m looking forward to the journey. Do you think it’s going to be a long one?”

I smile, tangle my fingers through his hair, and lose myself in the depths of his eyes. “I hope so. Long journeys are the best kind.”

“Especially long journeys with you.”

Chapter 27

Jacob

Three months later

Archer zips up his tracksuit jacket. “Do I look okay? I want to make a good first impression.”

I put my hands on his hips so I can align our bodies and kiss him. “You look great.”

I might be a tiny bit jealous that he gets to go to work in a tracksuit while I have to wear a suit. Then again, our professions are as different as night and day, a little like us.

“They’ll love you,” I say.

“I hope so.”

I put my hand on his nape and stroke my thumb back and forth. “What’s your job title again?”

He wrinkles his nose. “You know what it is.”

“Humour me.”

“Assistant Sports Centre Manager.”

“Ah, yes. Your dream job.”

He grins and kisses me. “I’d better go.”

“We could walk to the bus stop together.”

“A, you’d end up getting to work crazy early. B, I’m not using the bus.”

I frown. “You’re not?”