This moment feels familiar, like the time she and Malcolm kissed at the bar in college. Doubt had plagued her almost immediately. Did he mean it? Was it real? She’d wanted to ask Malcolm, but nothing changed after because they were already close. He never tried to kiss her again, and she couldn’t shake the feeling he was waiting for her. Was there something she was supposed to do? Malcolm had adjusted faster than she had—was there some kind of social rule she hadn’t learned yet that she was supposed to follow? She never got an answer. That kiss lingered between them for days, then weeks, and then a month later he went on a date with someone named Dylan. Joy had cried for a week straight.

Now, that same yearning gulf is widening before her, except this time there’s a bridge, with Fox waiting on it. He’s giving her a way to reach him if she wants. All she has to do is accept.

Does she like Fox?

Of course she does. Yes. If she thought about it . . . no wonder she was so determined to get to know him and make him smile. Friendly at first, they’re technically dating after all, but this . . . isn’t that. Her brain had made the leap from friendship to romance and she hadn’t even noticed.

Slowly, she stretches her fingers against his chest near his shoulder. Her thumb reaches his firm collarbone, and she runs her fingers along it, back and forth.

Joy has rules for moments like these. She needs to be sure first. See what he wants. It’s okay, she thinks. It’s Fox. He knows. She asks, “Can I kiss you?”

He nods . . . and then doesn’t move. They’re still slow dancing in the kitchen, swaying lightly to the music, surrounded by smells of flour, baked apples, sugar, and spices. She waits and waits and waits . . .

Joy almost laughs when she gets it. He took her literally—she’s supposed to kiss him. She stands on her tiptoes to reach him and smiles through their first kiss. When he kisses her back, he doesn’t linger at all. It’s quick, efficient, and strangely enough, she does laugh then, a disbelieving and breathy sound as she presses another kiss on his dimple, because he’s smiling too.

Oh, she’s sure all right. Damn sure.

The song ends, breaking the magic spell. They automatically part, backing up half a step, hands falling to their sides.

“So,” Joy says. “That happened.”

“I was surprised you asked.”

“You didn’t seem surprised.”

“I was surprised on the inside,” he says. “Or maybe I’ve adjusted to your impulsive ways.”

“No, it’s not that. It’s not possible to get used to me,” she teases. “We should clean up.” After the pie finishes baking, Joy sets it on a cooling rack just as Fox finishes drying the last of their dishes.