Page 78 of Make Me Yours

But I sure as hell do.

When it comes to her, I notice every little detail.

“I need to use the restroom,” Holland says, rising from her chair with a mischievous smile. Her gaze slides to Lilah. “Want to join me? That way I can grill you in private about your current living situation.”

The corners of Lilah’s lips lift. “Is that really necessary?”

Holland’s already turning toward the restaurant. “Oh, you bet it is.”

Lilah groans before standing and smoothing her dress as she follows. I don’t realize how long I’ve been staring until Bridger lets out a low, amused chuckle.

“Good to know nothing’s changed on that front,” he says, swirling his whiskey like the smug bastard he is.

I drag my gaze away from the door. “What front?”

He snorts. “When are you finally going to man up and tell Lilah how you feel?”

My fingers tighten around my bottle. “I’m working on it.”

“Working on it?” He laughs. “Dude, this has been going on since college. At the rate you’re moving, you’ll be in a retirement home by the time she figures it out.”

I take a pull from my beer, ignoring the heat that creeps up my neck.

Bridger leans back in his chair, still grinning. “Look, I get it. She’s gorgeous, smart, and funny. Way too good for you, obviously.”

I huff out a laugh. “Obviously.”

“If you don’t do something soon, someone else is going to. You remember what happened a few years back? She wassingle, you hesitated, and some other guy swooped in before you could make a move.”

The memory hits like a punch to the ribs.

I haven’t forgotten.

Not even for a second.

The thought of her with someone else now?

It makes my stomach churn.

“That’s not going to happen this time,” I say, tone hard.

Bridger watches me for a beat before nodding. “Good. I love you, man. I just want to see you happy. And you and I both know… for you, that’s Lilah.”

He’s not wrong.

It’s always been her.

Before I can respond, the restaurant doors swing open again, and Lilah steps back into the light. Holland is beside her, still chatting, but she’s the only thing I’m cognizant of.

The breeze lifts her hair, and in that short black dress, with the muted glow of candlelight catching in her eyes, she’s a fucking vision.

Enough to bring any man to their knees.

I don’t even try to hide the way I look at her.

She slides back into the seat beside me, and my hand instinctively finds her knee under the table. She tenses for the briefest moment but doesn’t pull away.

That’s all the encouragement I need.