Page 37 of Save Me

"See? Not so bad," he murmurs as we sway to the slow song playing over the speakers.

"Don't get cocky, firefighter." But I'm smiling despite myself, and we both know it.

We move together easily, like we've done this before, though we haven't. Not really.

"You look beautiful tonight," Mark says, his breath warm against my temple.

I want to deflect, to make a joke, to put distance between us like I have for months. Instead, I find myself looking up into his eyes.

"Mark..."

"I know you're scared," he says softly. "I know what happened with Derek messed you up. Hell, it messed me up too, watching what he put you through."

My step falters slightly, but Mark's arms tighten, steadying me. "You don't know anything about what happened with Derek."

"I know enough. I know he was a fool to let you go. I know you deserve better than someone who'd rather chase other women than appreciate the incredible one he had at home."

The words hit deeper than I expected, and I have to blink back the sudden sting of tears. "It's not that simple."

"Maybe it is." His hand moves from my back to cup my face gently. "Maybe it's exactly that simple. Maybe some of us are just too stubborn or too scared to see it."

Around us, other couples are swaying, lost in their own worlds, but it feels like Mark and I are the only two people who exist. The music seems to fade, replaced by the sound of my heart hammering against my ribs.

"What are you saying?" I whisper.

"I'm saying I've been wanting to ask you something for months, but I didn't want to push. Didn't want to be another guy pressuring you when you were trying to heal." His thumb brushes across my cheekbone. "But watching you tonight, seeing you smile—really smile—for the first time in forever... I can't keep pretending I don't feel something here."

My breath catches. "Mark..."

"Have dinner with me," he says, and it's not really a question. "A real dinner. Not as friends, not as someone who works with your brother. As a man who thinks you're amazing asking out a woman he can't stop thinking about."

I should say no. I should protect myself, protect this fragile thing I've been rebuilding since Derek shattered it. But Mark's eyes are so warm, so sincere, and for the first time in over a year, I want to say yes to something that scares me.

"One dinner," I hear myself saying.

His smile could power the entire town. "One dinner. I'll cook—I make a mean lasagna."

"You cook?"

"I'm full of surprises, Trish."

The song is ending, but neither of us moves to step apart. Instead, Mark's hand slides back into my hair, and he's looking at me like I'm something precious, something worth waiting for.

"Can I kiss you?" he asks, so quietly I almost don't hear him over the applause for the bride and groom.

I nod, because words seem impossible right now.

When Mark's lips touch mine, it's nothing like the desperate, selfish kisses Derek used to give me. This is patient, reverent, like Mark has all the time in the world and wants to savor every second. His mouth moves against mine with a tenderness that makes my knees weak, and when he finally pulls back, I'm breathless.

"Definitely full of surprises," I manage to say.

Mark grins, his forehead resting against mine. "Just wait until you see what I can do with a kitchen timer and some good wine."

And for the first time since my divorce, I find myself actually looking forward to finding out.