Page 59 of The Cuddle Clause

I froze. “We’re in a restaurant.”

“Technically, we’re in a temple of beet foam and air chakras. Come on, it’ll be fun.”

He stood and pulled me up before I could argue. We swayed between tables, awkward and out of place. Roman dipped me low, leaned in, and whispered, “You’re mine tonight. Play along, honeybun.”

And then he kissed me. It was a show-stopping, stomach-flipping, brain-melting kiss. I knew it was for show. For Eric. But my body didn’t seem to care. I let out a breathless laugh when he pulled away.

Eric stood up. “Maggie, can I talk to you privately? Just for a second?”

I blinked, still dazed. I didnotwant to do that. “I actually have… an appointment… I forgot about.”

Roman threw an arm around my waist without missing a beat. “Yeah. An appointment.” He tossed some cash onto the table and led us out of the restaurant.

We barely made it out the door before laughter spilled out of me like carbonation. The sidewalk had never looked so good, and the air had never smelled so good.

We walked through the city, side by side. Eventually, Roman draped his arm over my shoulders, and I leaned into him as warmth spread through my chest. The glow of neon signs and string lights reflected off puddles on the cracked sidewalk. Behind it all, the skyline glittered like it was showing off.

“That was almost worth it,” he said. “Just to see you laugh like that.”

I glanced up at him, and my heart fluttered like a traitor.

My stomach growled, saving me from saying anything in reply. “I’m starving. The beets and kale didn’t quite cut it.”

Roman nodded. “Yeah, let’s find some real food.”

We found a food truck parked on a side street, wedged between a laundromat with a mural of sea lions and a corner bodega blasting old-school hip hop. The truck looked like it hadn’t passed inspection in years, paint peeling and one headlight cracked. We ordered everything: burritos, fries, funnel cake, and tacos in two varieties.

“We wait until we’re home. Like adults,” Roman said solemnly. “This is delayed gratification. Character building.”

At the apartment, we spread the feast out across the coffee table and opened a bottle of wine.

I took the throw pillows off the sofa to make room, but Roman snatched them from me. “Roommate agreement violation. Immediate consequence: five minutes of sustained eye contact and one sincere compliment. I put my face on those, Mags. Have some respect.”

I rolled my eyes and helped him rearrange them. Everything felt light and easy even though I was still buzzing with leftover adrenaline. We sat close on the floor, our knees brushing. The conversation turned more date-like than either of us probably meant.

“What’s your favorite movie?” I asked.

Roman considered. “It used to be something dramatic and artsy. But lately? ProbablyHowl’s Moving Castle. Don’t tell anyone. I have a reputation.”

I smiled. “You just like the fire demon.”

“Maybe. What would you be doing if you weren’t designing full-time?”

“Something ridiculous. Like mural painting or interior restoration. I don’t know.”

We laughed and talked about our awkward middle school years. Roman confessed he’d been in drama club. “Drama club: Wolf Edition,” he said. “Every monologue had a snarl.”

After two glasses of wine, he grinned. “Let’s play Truth or Dare.”

I raised an eyebrow. “Is this high school again?”

“You’re just scared of what I’ll ask.”

Maybe I was. But not for the reason he thought. I set down my wine. “Game on.”

Chapter 15

Roman