“Okay, that escalated a bit,” I frown, but a grin peeks through despite myself. “You really think so? You think there can be a happily ever after for a story like ours?”

“Are you kidding? A story like yours just makes the happily ever after that much sweeter.”

I smile.

Then I picture it: me and Dean.

A future.

Dinner dates, cuddling, movie nights, vacations by the beach. Children. Dogs.

More dogs.

Even more dogs.

I can picture it all—and for the first time ever, I can truly see it.

The knock at my front door makes the butterflies in my stomach take flight.

Lily left twenty minutes ago, and I’ve been sitting on the couch practicing how to breathe.

Breathing is good. Breathing is important. Breathing keeps us alive.

Jude and Penny beat me to the door as I traipse across the living room in my black pumps, repeating the mantra to myself. I close my eyes for just a beat, collecting my nerves, then I pull the door open.

Dean goes completely still when his eyes find me, his gaze trailing me up and down, slowly and purposefully. His Adam’s apple bobs in his throat as we stare at each other for a few moments, unsure of what to say.

Finally, Dean sucks in a deep breath. “Holy shit. You look…”

Penny skips out onto the porch and starts pawing at his ankle, circling both of his legs. This seems to snap him out of whatever daze he is in, and Dean crouches down to give both dogs attention. But his eyes keep flicking up to me as I linger in the doorway, biting my lip.

I clear my throat, calling for the dogs to retreat, so Dean can step inside. “Hey, you,” I mutter with a smile, happy to have found my voice. “Looks like they missed you.”

He rises to his feet and steps through the threshold, his stare still hot and pinned on me. He swallows again, sliding his hands in his pockets.

I feel my skin start to singe from the fire in his eyes, so I turn away, wringing my hands together and walking towards the coat rack to grab my jacket. “So, where did you want to go? I’m up for anything. We can even do The Oar for old time’s sake, even though I’m—”

My breath catches in my throat, possibly indefinitely, when I feel two warm hands capture my waist from behind with a feather light touch. And then his lips are up against my ear, his heartbeat pressed into my back, his proximity a painful reminder of everything I’ve been missing for the last eight months.

“I promised myself I’d be good tonight, but I feel like you might make a liar out of me.”

His low, gravelly voice tickles my ear, sending the butterflies in my belly into overdrive. In fact, they may have exploded. My stomach is now a butterfly graveyard.