“What did she mean by finally? Like she'd gotten lucky enough?”
“Or they rigged it somehow.” Law replied.
“You can do that?” You asked a little shocked.
“Sure, people are terrible.” He said between bites, “We start our match packets in middle school. That's plenty of time to manipulate qualities and personality traits.”
“I guess I never thought that would be something people do.” You said, disappointed.

You knew people weren't great. Your own parents weren't shining examples for how you should live your life. At least they didn't meddle.

“Cora-ya has seen plenty of cases like that. Even some that have been petitioned for rematch when they don't get their way.”
“For money?” You asked.
“Or political gain, status, stuff like that.” He thought for a moment, “Both the Charlottes and the Newgates are pretty affluent families. Bringing them together probably has some people scared.”
“Pretty bold to petition something mandated by the government.” You shook your head.
“I'm not sure that many actually got their way with it,” he scoffed, “but it's possible I guess.”

The two of you continued eating quietly. You were trying to make sense of things. If the situation is truly what your fiance is implying, would Marco have been matched with her?

“He would have been put with someone else regardless.” Law's voice was soft but stern.

You made a strange muffled sound in response.

He directed his gaze back down to his plate, “You've been sitting there with your fork in your mouth for a full minute. While I can't say it isn't a little … endearing…I know what you're thinking.”
“I-I … I mean,” your face was on fire.
“I get it.” His eyes softened a bit as they rose to meet yours, “It would be hard not to have that thought, right?”
You frowned, “It's not something I want anymore.”
“I know.” He affirmed softly.

Your guts twisted at the thought of hurting his feelings. He'd never admit it, but it stung a little knowing your mind still went there. Law stood quietly to collect your dishes. You didn't know what you could say to comfort him so as he stepped next to you, without bothering to get up, you leaned into him like a stray cat. Your forehead against the tattoo on his forearm stopped him from reaching out.

This should have been awkward.
But it wasn't.
It wasn't at all.

Law let out a low startled, “wha-?”

You didn't move.
He could see your pout.

Involuntarily his lips upturned. Any bit of affection from you was dizzying, dare he say, exhilarating. Hearing you admit that you didn't want the future that didn't involve him made his chest tight.

It gave him confidence.

His fingers softly ran along your jaw, gently forcing your gaze up to meet his. The dulcet gasp that left you as his thumb brushed over your bottom lip surprised you both. His shock quickly shifted into something mischievous.

Suddenly the room felt like it was buzzing. A warm electric current hummed around you. Law leaned forward testing the waters in your personal space. He watched your eyelids drop as he got closer. An involuntary motion that confirmed he wasn't making a mistake. The moment his lips touched yours your walls crumbled. His hand slipped behind your ear tilting your head back a bit. Your quiet sounds of appreciation encouraged him to continue - sounds he'd recently been dreaming of. Only allowing you quick breaths between abrupt smooches that dragged into longer kisses, he hummed. Shivers zinged down your spine while your skin erupted with goosebumps. You didn't know you had a death grip on his shirt until he pulled away to press those perfect lips to your forehead.

“I know.” He murmured again, catching his breath.

The two of you stayed like this for a few moments, trying to calm down. He'd never experienced a kiss like that. Not in the less-than-a-handful of times he'd even bothered to kiss someone. Currently he was talking himself out of taking you and replacing every memory you've ever had on the desk in your office.

That kiss may have altered your brain chemistry.

You could still feel his lips warm and soft pressed firmly to yours. It was so easy and calm but also intense. You'd be thinking about the way his fingers slipped into your hairline to guide you closer for days.

“Damn.”

You hadn't realized you'd whispered it out loud until your fiance's chuckle hit your ears.

“Yeah.” He agreed.

The sense of relief that settled between you was immediate. In the last few weeks tensions had been building. There were close calls and forehead kisses, but that tingling urge to scratch the proverbial itch never faded.

Why were you so scared?
It seemed silly now.

But you weren't the only one. Letting himself feel and fall meant the government was right.
And he hated that.

If you met naturally would you be here?

He shook his head before he started to spiral.
What if’s didn't matter.

Your heart was still pounding when he finally stepped back. The cool air that replaced his warmth yanked you out of your fuzzy pink haze. Law cleared his throat and picked up your plate before heading to the sink to clean up. When the adrenaline dissipated and your hands steadied you picked your flower work up.

“Is there anything I can do to help?” Law asked drying his hands on a kitchen towel that was slung over his left shoulder.

Something you'd passed on from culinary school when he helped you cook at home.

He looked so natural in your bakery kitchen now, even in his dress shirt with the sleeves rolled to his elbows. He must've been a cook in another life.

“We've talked about staring right?” He chuckled.

There was a splash of pride there.

“I was thinking.” Your blush betrayed you.
“Mhm.” He hummed.
“Could you hand me that styrofoam square?” You pointed at a shelf to his left filled with crafting supplies.

Law took the block off the shelf without any objection and reclaimed his seat directly across from you.

“Thank you.” You murmured starting to build flowers from the petals you'd crafted, “I don't suppose you'd like to try these out.”
“I’d rather not ruin your work.”

He watched you delicately start to form each flower and place it into a small hole drilled through the foam block. The way he could watch the world fall away as you became absorbed in your task made him smile. Your eyes and hands were focused. You loved to make things and it showed.

His mind wandered back to your conversation during dinner. Now that some foul play had been all but confirmed, what would you do? He didn't think her threat would mean much if you were determined to do what you deemed to be the right thing.

He didn't want to ask.