Corbin and I bothlose it.
“It does!” I laugh, maybe a little too loudly, but I don’t care. We’re having too much fun, and for the first time inyears, I feel completely, undeniablylight.
“I was just copying what you were doing,” Corbin protests, motioning toward Holly’s painting at the front of the class.
I glance between Holly’s carefully constructed masterpiece and Corbin’s verynotmasterpiece and laugh harder. “Yeah, uh… Idon’tthink so.”
Holly grins, shaking her head as she walks away, still chuckling.
Corbin sets his brush down and glances at my empty wine glass. “Do you want another?”
I shake my head. “My limit tonight is one.”
He raises an eyebrow. “Being responsible?”
“I have my reasons,” I say, trailing off as I take his brush and add a few strokes of brown paint to his canvas. “There.Muchbetter.”
Corbin studies my fix and smirks. “I didn’t realize you were a turkey expert.”
“I havemanyskills,” I say, lifting my chin proudly.
His hand drifts to my hair, fingers gliding through my curls, and I lean into his touch, warmth spreading through my chest.
“This is fun,” he murmurs, like he’s realizing it for the first time. “I’m glad you asked me out.”
I nod as my hand instinctively finds his thigh, my palm resting there like it always used to. “Thank you for coming with me.”
“Tate would freak out if he knew what we were doing right now,” Corbin chuckles, shaking his head.
“I don’t want to lie to him,” I say softly. “You know that, right?”
Corbin’s expression turns serious. “I know, Jules. We’ll tell him when there’s somethingtotell.”
I swallow hard. “I love him so much. And the thought of him hurting, it…”
“Hey.” Corbin shifts in his chair, turning to face me completely. His hands find my arms, his thumbs tracing slow, reassuring circles against my skin. “No one is going to hurt him.”
I exhale, nodding.
“We love our son,” he reminds me, the sound steady and sure. “But let’s focus onustonight.”
I take a breath, letting the truth of that settle between us.
“What do you want for dinner?” I ask, needing something to ground me.
Corbin’s fingers drift back to my hair, to the nape of my neck, a slow, lazy pull drawing me closer. His lips hover just a breath away from mine. “I have a few ideas.”
A spear of heat flares between my thighs. I swallow hard. “Food, Corbin.”
His grin is downright wicked. “Sushi?”
“To go?” I add quickly.
He tilts his head, amusement flickering across his face. “You ready to leave?”
I nod. “Let’s go.”
We grab our paintings, thanking Holly on our way out. The night air is thick with the scent of rain, the sky darkening as thunder rumbles in the distance.
