Take a Hint, Dani Brown (The Brown Sisters #2)(94)

“Good,” Zaf said. His eyes burned into hers as if he could stamp his words into her mind, into her heart. “I would rather be trying and stumbling with you than doing anything—seriously, absolutely anything—with anyone else.”

Dani swallowed back a lump of adoration and tried to sound lighthearted as opposed to disgracefully emotional. “Even if I don’t change my mildly controversial stance on anniversaries?”

“Fuck anniversaries,” he said promptly. “As a very smart woman once told me, that’s what Valentine’s Day is for.”

Dani’s laughter became tears after approximately two seconds. She threw her arms around him with such force that anyone else would’ve fallen—but Zaf didn’t. He took the hit and held her tight against his chest where she could feel his pounding heart, or maybe it was hers, or maybe they shared hearts now—she wasn’t quite sure how this romance arrangement worked. But she was sure she wanted it, no matter the risks.

“This love business is absolutely nonsensical,” she told him unsteadily.

“I know,” he replied. “Isn’t it great?”





EPILOGUE


One Year Later

Zaf shut the front door and hung up his coat, sweaty from an evening’s practice with his local amateur rugby league, and vibrating with a certainty that Danika was up to something.

They had a routine, on nights like this: as soon as he got home, she’d jump his bones and ask about his day. Apparently, she liked sweat. She also liked grilling him about meetings and workshops while playing with his dick, because it made her laugh when he got his words mixed up.

But today? Zaf clocked her shoes in the hallway, but Dani herself was nowhere to be found.

“Hey, trouble,” he called as he put his Tesco bags down in the kitchen. “Where are you?”

There was a pause before she shouted from the bedroom, “Nowhere.”

The last time Dani had nowhere’d him, it was because she’d accidentally bought a fern on Facebook Marketplace that was almost as big as Zaf—despite being banned from buying any more plants because they could no longer see their TV.

She was taking her newfound work–life balance, and the accompanying hobbies, very seriously.

Zaf shook his head and followed her voice with a sigh. He had visions of his bedside table being replaced by a giant pot of bamboo. “Dan. Sweetheart. You know we don’t have space for any more—”

“Don’t come in!” Her voice was muffled through the closed door. “I’m in the bedroom. But don’t come in! And don’t worry, I didn’t buy another plant.”

“I don’t believe you.”

“I didn’t! Well, not unless you count that teeny, tiny cactus from Urban Outfitters—”

“Danika!”

“He’s only a baby, Zaf, darling, have a heart. And stay out of the bedroom.” She was laughing, but there was a squeaky edge to her voice that sounded almost like . . . nerves?

Hmm.

In the year since they’d decided to be together—really together—Dani had treated keeping in touch with her emotions the same way she treated everything else: as a goal to be hit so hard and so accurately, she split the target in two. But when it came to feelings, and learned behavior, and past hurts, you couldn’t just read a few books and try really, really hard and be better. No one could. So, a little while back, they’d made a deal. It was a simple one.

When Zaf was worried about Dani, he pushed. And if it felt like too much, she told him.

“Are you okay?” he asked now.

“Peachy. Golden. Flying without wings.”

“Right,” he said dryly. “Listen. I’m going to take a shower, and then I’m going to make dinner, and we’re going to eat and talk about whatever’s bothering you.”

“Yes, sir, emotional drill sergeant, sir.”

He snorted and flipped her off through the door.

“Are you giving a slab of wood the finger right now, Zafir?”

“You know me so well,” he said fondly, and left her to it.



An hour later, Zaf was clean, the kitchen was filled with the scent of homemade Chinese food (which looked pretty damn good, if he did say so himself), and his girlfriend was still locked in their bedroom.

He knocked on the door.

“Yes?” she called innocently.

“Food’s almost done.”

“Crap.”

“What?”

“I said, great.”

He sighed. “You know, I’m starting to wonder if there’s a dead body in there.”

“Don’t be silly, darling. This is my favorite room in the house, not to be defiled with murder and gore. I’d keep a dead body in the bathtub. Much easier to clean.”

“Good to know. I’m coming in now.”

Dani released a sigh so mighty he actually heard it through the door. Then she said, “Oh, for heaven’s sake. I suppose this will have to do.”

Er . . . what would have to do? Zaf opened the door to find Danika sitting on the floor with pieces of paper in her hand and a pile of books next to her. Which wasn’t exactly an unusual sight—except for the expression on her face.

“Sweetheart,” he said, hurrying over to sink down beside her. “What’s wrong?”