Page 112 of The Equation of Us
“No more hiding.” His hand slides to the nape of my neck, warm and familiar. “No more sneaking around or worrying what other people will think. If we’re doing this, we’re doing it openly.”
“Okay.” The prospect is slightly terrifying—facing potential judgment, navigating social complexities with Daphne—but the alternative is unthinkable. “No more hiding.”
“Good.” Dean’s other hand settles at my waist, drawing me closer. “Because I’m tired of pretending I don’t want to look at you across a room. Tired of calculating how long I can accidentally brush against you in the hallway without being obvious.”
The admission sends warmth spreading through me. “You calculated that?”
“Down to the tenth of a second.” A hint of his old humor returns. “I’m very precise about these things.”
“I’ve noticed.” I slide my hands up his chest to his shoulders, relearning the feel of him beneath my fingers. “It’s one of the things I love about you.”
The word slips out before I can catch it, hanging in the air between us. Dean goes very still, his eyes darkening.
“What did you say?” he asks, voice low.
I could backtrack. Could rephrase, substitute “like” or “admire” or any other safer term. But I’m done being safe.
“I love you,” I repeat, more deliberately this time. “I think I have for a while. I was just too afraid to admit it, even to myself.”
For a moment, Dean doesn’t respond, and my heart stutters with anxiety. Then his hands frame my face, his expression more open, more vulnerable than I’ve ever seen it.
“I love you too,” he says, the words simple but profound. “Even when I was angry, even when I thought you were gone for good—I never stopped.”
And then he’s kissing me, his mouth finding mine with the hunger of weeks apart. I rise on my toes, arms winding around his neck as I pour everything I can’t say into the kiss—every apology, every promise, every declaration of love I’ve been holding back.
When we finally break apart, both breathing hard, he rests his forehead against mine. “So,” he says, a smile in his voice. “Did you really bring skates?”
I laugh, the sound rusty but genuine. “I did. Though I should warn you, I wasn’t exaggerating about being terrible.”
“That’s okay.” He brushes another kiss against my lips. “I’ll hold you up.”
As we make our way to the locker room to retrieve the rental skates I stashed there earlier, Dean’s hand warm around mine, I realize something: For the first time in my life, I’m not calculating risks or weighing consequences or planning ten steps ahead.
I’m simply here, with Dean, taking each moment as it comes.
And somehow, that feels like the most precise equation of all.
Chapter Thirty-Seven
Public Variables
Nora
“Are you sure this looks okay?” I smooth the skirt of my dress for the tenth time, studying my reflection in Dean’s bathroom mirror with critical eyes.
The navy blue dress is more formal than anything I’ve worn in years—fitted bodice with a subtle V-neck, flaring out to a full skirt that falls just above my ankles. I borrowed it from Sadie, who insisted the color “brings out the gold flecks in your eyes,” whatever that means.
“You’ve asked me that three times,” Dean says, appearing in the doorway behind me. “And the answer is still the same.”
Our eyes meet in the mirror. He’s in a charcoal gray suit that fits him perfectly, crisp white shirt, no tie. His hair is styled with slightly more care than usual, though a rebellious curl has already escaped at his temple. He looks sophisticated, polished—and entirely too handsome for my peace of mind.
“Which is?” I prompt, needing the reassurance despite knowing it’s irrational.
He steps closer, hands settling on my shoulders, his chest warm against my back. “You’re beautiful.” His lips brush the curve where my neck meets my shoulder. “And everyone at that gala is going to wonder what you’re doing with me.”
I lean back against him, absorbing his steady presence. “I’m pretty sure it’ll be the opposite.”
“Then we’ll both be wondering the same thing.” He meets my eyes in the mirror again, his expression serious despite the lightness in his tone. “Are you nervous about tonight?”
