Page 56 of The Love Operation

“It was a pleasure meeting you both,” Isaac says. “Hopefully, I’ll see you again soon.”

I tug him toward the door, calling back over my shoulder, “Help yourselves to some Persian lentils and rice. And Everett—there are peanut M&Ms in the pantry.”

That should keep them occupied for a few minutes.

I turn fully to Isaac. “I’m sorry. I really wasn’t expecting them. My parents have been acting weird lately.” I wave my hand. “It’s a whole thing. They started a TikTok account, and apparently it’s gone viral, also . . . disturbing. And—” And I’m rambling. “Anyway, point is, they’re acting weird, and I need to deal with it.”

Isaac chuckles as he slips his shoes on. “You don’t have to explain why I need to go.” His voice is warm, easy. “Of course, I’m happy to listen, but don’t feel obligated.”

My shoulders relax. “You make things easy, don’t you?”

He nods, then his eyes lock onto mine like magnetic marbles. “Though . . . I am wondering.” A pause. Just enough for the air to shift. “Do you have enough information to make a decision? About us?”

Something inside me clenches. My chest is tight, like I need an EKG. Maybe a stress test. Definitely a cardiac clearance.

I nod. “I have enough information.”

“And . . . ?”

I plant my hands on my hips. “Don’t you think we should at least take a few hours to mull it over?”

He shakes his head. “I already know my answer.” His voice dips lower. “I knew it before tonight. But this evening has only made a pretty clear decision excruciatingly obvious.”

He lifts my hand, presses his lips against my knuckles. A soft, steady heat blooms under my skin.

“My answer is yes, Dr. Wren.” His fingers intertwine with mine, and my stomach swoops. “I think we can pull this off. We both have too much to lose, so we’ll be careful. But I don’t want to miss out on what I think could be really fantastic.”

“You want this even after meeting Everett and Maggie?”

He smiles. “They’re great.”

My mouth flattens into a line. “Yeeeeah. Like vampire bunnies—sweet and fluffy until you realize they’re undead.”

“What’s with you and the undead?”

“I’m a surgeon. I never want anything to die.”

He tries to keep his smile in check, then inhales. “Well . . . if you insist on torturing me, I’ll wait.”

“Tomorrow,” I say, suddenly breathless. “I just need to make sure I’m thinking with my head and not . . . some other part of my body.”

He smirks. “It’s okay to think with your heart in conjunction with your head.”

“That’s not the part I meant,” I tease.

His eyes go flirty. “I know.”

We linger. And as we do, the tension spreads thick, stretches taut.

Is this happening? Is this really happening? And if it is, I’d like to know what it is. Because I’m not 100 percent sure. I need . . . a handbook.

Then, just when I think I’ll crack, he leans in.

The kiss is deep, smooth. Like diving beneath warm water, gliding over coral reefs, and swimming with schools of fish that tickle my skin.

I want more.

I haven’t wanted someone like this in a long time. Just when I might pull him to the floor, not caring that my siblings are in the other room, he eases back.