She swallowed. “Wait, so you’re…I’m confused.”

He set both palms gently on her face. “You want me to talk your language? You’re my worm, Mollie. The creepy, mate-for-life variety. I’m here to stay, Mollie. Because of you. You, who’s always been there. And no, my romantic feelings for you don’t have the long roots that yours do for me, but that doesn’t make them any less intense. And they are intense, Mollie.”

Neither one of them spoke for a while, and his eyes slowly became wary. At last he said, “Mollie, is this…am I way off base here? Did your feelings change?”

She laughed softly. “Jackson, if I could change my feelings, I would have done it a long time ago. Say, like when you were married to my sister.”

“Ah,” he said knowingly. “Is that what’s holding you back? You feel like you’re betraying Maddie?”

“It’s just that this is complicated. I don’t even know what it would be like.”

“So we’ll figure it out,” he said, pushing her hair back. “We’ll figure it out one day at a time. We’ll take it slow, and—”

“Take it slow?” she interrupted. “Jackson, you’re moving my clothes into your closet.”

“Okay, so we won’t take it that slow.”

She started to step back, but he didn’t let her. “Mollie, I know you’re scared to death. I know you’re worried about your sister. I’m half terrified myself. But we can do this. I want to do this. I want this more than I’ve wanted anything.”

“More than football?” she teased.

To her surprise, he didn’t smile back. He merely stared down at her with a stunned expression. “Yeah,” he said, his voice a little rough. “I want you more than football. I love you more than that too.”

It wasn’t much of a line. But it was the exact line Mollie needed to throw herself into his arms and kiss him. Frantic, happy kisses mingled with giddy laughs.

“I need the words, woman,” he said with a laugh as he tried to dodge her mouth.

“What words?” She went in for another kiss.

He gently tugged her hair, holding her still before their mouths could touch. “You know.”

Mollie smiled up at him. “Do I?”

“Mollie.” The pleading in his voice nearly undid her.

“I love you,” she said softly. “I’ve always, always loved you. Even when it was a really, really bad idea.”

“Thank you,” he said gently. “For loving me. Even if I didn’t know it, I’m honored. I’m humbled.”

“I don’t want any of that nonsense,” she said. “I just want your love.”

He smiled down at her. “I hope you’re sure about that. Because you’re going to have it for a long, long time to come.”

Epilogue

FIVE MONTHS LATER

Stepping off the elevator onto the Oxford floor on a Friday afternoon was a bit like walking into a crowded stadium—noisy, rowdy, and filled with men.

Although today seemed even noisier than usual, and Mollie quickly found out why when she walked into the main reception area and encountered what appeared to be the entire office surrounding a folding table.

Mollie walked up and stood between Jake Malone and Alex Cassidy, both barely glancing at her as they muttered distracted hellos. She jerked her chin to where her boyfriend sat perfectly still holding both hands out in front of him, his fingers shaped like L’s and touching at the thumbs, as Lincoln sat across the table from him with a triangular piece of folded paper.

Jackson glanced up, caught her eye, and winked before turning his attention back to Lincoln, who was currently having his shoulders rubbed by Cole, not unlike a trainer prepping a boxer before a match.

“So,” she said casually, “what’s happening here?”

“Paper football,” Jake said without looking away from the table.

“Uh-huh,” she said. “And everyone is riveted by this third-grade phenomenon because…?”

“Because whoever wins gets to be my best man,” Cassidy responded without glancing at her.

She stared at him. “Are you serious? You’re basing your choice of best man on the winner of a game of paper football?”

He glanced down at her with amused green eyes. “Can you think of a better way in this group? It was that or watch Jake, Lincoln, Cole, and your boy Jackson try to figure out how to do a four-way arm-wrestling match.”

Her lips parted. “Jackson was in the running?”

She was oddly touched, even though it wasn’t about her. Cassidy had proposed to Emma Sinclair a few months back—for the second time. Quietly, over their morning coffee, in what Emma had declared the most perfect moment of her life. As far as Mollie knew, they hadn’t set a date, but the fact that Alex Cassidy considered Jackson a good enough friend to be a part of his wedding had her eyes watering.

“Jeez, don’t cry, Molls,” Cassidy muttered, not looking at her. “Turns out he’s a good dude. When he’s not being an ass.”

“Well, that’s true,” she acknowledged with a little tilt of her head.

Jake came over and shook his head. “Sucks, man. I’ve known you longest.”

Cassidy gave him a look. “I know you lost in the first round on purpose.”

Jake smiled guiltily. “I don’t want to wear a tux.”