Page 40 of The Snuggle Is Real

We didn't talk about that. We didn't talk about anything except fifteen years ago, and fifteen years ago is easy. It's already happened.

No complications, I think. Rule three.

It's a little late for that.

Everything has changed.

And yet, maybe he wants nothing to have changed. I don’t know.

I press my lips to his chest, right over his heart, light enough that he won't wake. He shifts and pulls me closer in his sleep, like even unconscious, he knows exactly where I am.

I tell myself that's enough.

Chapter Ten

Malcolm

Emily is already awake when I open my eyes.

That's the first thing that's wrong.

Emily doesn't wake up before me. Emily wakes up at the last possible second. In fifteen years of side-by-side hotel rooms and early mornings at airport gates, I have never once seen her up before seven unless a bride was actively on fire.

But she's sitting on the edge of the bed with her back to me, fully dressed, holding a cup of the terrible in-room coffee with both hands.

Her suitcase is zipped and standing by the door.

That's the second thing that's wrong.

"Morning," I say. My voice is still rough from sleep.

"Morning." She turns and smiles at me. It's a nice smile. It's a very professional smile. It's the smile she gives the mother of the bride when the mother of the bride is being a nightmare. "You need to be at Ian’s by eight. I set out your suit. The tie's in the garment bag. Don't forget the rings."

"MacKay has the rings."

"MacKay is getting married today. MacKay could forget his own pants. You have the rings."

I do, in fact, have the rings. They're in the inside pocket of my suit jacket, in a velvet box I've checked four times since Thursday.

I sit up. Last night I fell asleep with my face in her hair and her cold feet tucked against my shins, and I'd thought, this is it. This is what the porch swing is for.

"Em," I say. "About last night."

"We should get you moving." She stands and sets her coffee on the dresser. "You can't be late. It's the one thing a best man can't do."

"I'm never late."

"I know." She's already in the bathroom doorway. "That's why I'm not worried."

The door shuts.

I stand up and open the door.

Emily is naked and for some inexplicable reason she screams and covers herself with her hands and arms. “What are you doing?” she demands.

“Getting a good morning kiss.”

I ease her arms down to her side and pull her nakedness right up against all of my naked body. Then I kiss her, softly, gently.