“Well...I think that worked.” My voice sounds breathy and soft as I step away from Rhett’s rock-hard body, the breeze whooshing in between us as though it’s carrying away all the feelings that came fluttering up when we kissed.
I wish it could carry away my confusion.
We walk again, and I’m just trying to stay upright after the most mind-blowing kiss of my life. Fake kiss.
I wonder if we’re going to talk about it, but Rhett just adjusts himself in his jeans and tries to steer the conversation back into safer territory. Mocking me.
“Did you plan our wedding while you were cooped up in the hospital? What about our wedding night? I’d love to hear about that.”
I glance down at his crotch with a smirk. Secretly getting off on seeing the bulge there. “Bet you would.”
His pinky finger wraps around mine tenderly before he moves his hand to the small of my back, guiding me safely across the road and making my chest flutter.
He’s joking. But I did imagine a wedding night with him. A long time ago.
I haven’t in years.
But I might be tonight.
* * *
“Tell me about him,” Rhett says from the passenger seat while I focus too hard on an empty road.
“What?” I eye him suspiciously now, pretending I don’t know what he’s talking about.
“Doctor Douche.”
I strangle a laugh in my throat as my tongue darts out over my lips and my knuckles turn white on the steering wheel. “He’s not a douche.”
“Get real. I saw his personalized license plate. His secret is officially out.”
I smile now. “Okay, that is bad.”
“Bad? It’s worse than bad. I bet he loves milk-based drinks, too.”
I huff out a laugh and shake my head.
“When did you break up?”
“I don’t know if you could call it a breakup. We weren’t together in the way you might be thinking.” My top teeth graze my bottom lip as I turn things over in my mind. I’ve only ever told Willa about this, and it’s scary to open up about it with Rhett.
“We... fuck. I don’t know. I’ve told no one except my best friend about this.”
“You mean Kip never met him?” The curiosity on his face is blatant.
“Well. No. He’s met him.”
“Summer, this isn’t a Christopher Nolan film. I don’t deserve to be this confused after giving you the best kiss of your—”
“He was my doctor,” I blurt out.
Rhett goes still, all the jokes sliding away. Probably crushed by the wheels beneath us. “Like your family doctor?”
“No. He’s a cardiothoracic surgeon. He performed the corrective heart procedures I had done as a teenager.”
His head flops back on the rest behind him. “Jesus Christ. So... did you just say teenager?”
“Nothing happened until I was legal. Whatever we did mostly consisted of sneaking around,” I add quickly, glancing over at him, because I can tell what he’s thinking.