My Dad's Bestfriend

Chapter 203

Chapter 203

Evelyn

"You know, Evelyn... you're the only woman I've ever met who complains about shopping too much," Jacob chuckled, his deep voice resonating with amusement as we strolled down the pavement hand-in-hand.

I rolled my eyes, but the smile tugging at my lips betrayed me. After a marathon of "extra shopping" we'd stuffed the car's backseat with bags and parked nearby for a walk-because I insisted, of course.

As we wandered through the peaceful evening, enjoying the crisp air and easy conversation, my eyes suddenly caught sight of a street-side ice cream shop. I stopped mid-step, my gaze locking onto the neon-lit counter like a moth to a flame.

Jacob noticed immediately. "You want ice cream?" he asked, already grinning.

"Yes, please!" I chirped, tugging him toward the shop.

When we reached the counter, Jacob, knowing me better than anyone, placed the order without hesitation. "One cookies and cream, please."

"And," I added, "a mint chocolate chip."

He raised a brow at me. "Evelyn, I don't even want ice cream right now."

"No one needs ice cream, silly," I retorted, reaching up to brush his messy hair back. "They want it."

"Well, I don't want it either."

"You think you don't, but you do."

"Evelyn..."

"Your order, sir," the shopkeeper interrupted, handing over two cups before Jacob could argue further.


I grabbed the cups, thrusting his toward him before scooping a spoonful of mine. Anticipation turned to confusion as I frowned at the taste.

"What's wrong?" Jacob asked, his brow furrowing.

"It's... off," I said, my disappointment palpable.

He reached for my cup. "Let me try."

After taking a bite, he shook his head, amused. "Tastes fine to me. Classic cookies and cream."

"Really?" I snatched it back, determined to give it another shot. But no, it still tasted strange. The smell was right, the texture perfect-but my tastebuds were betraying me. What was wrong with me these days?

I sighed in defeat. "Maybe today just isn't my ice cream day."

Jacob offered a sympathetic smile. "Want to try somewhere else? I know a few good spots." He hesitated before holding up his untouched cup. "You could even have mine, but..." His tone turned teasing. "You've always hated mint chocolate chip."

My gaze drifted to his cup. The creamy green swirl suddenly looked... tempting.

"Can I try it?" I asked, surprising even myself.

"You want to try

"What's

in his eyes as he handed me his cup. "Here. Let's see this


tongue, I froze. It was incredible. A delightful mix of refreshing mint and rich chocolate

"Jacob, how did I not know this flavor was

my hair.

away. "Don't call me

leaning in to kiss my cheek. "Fine.

"An adult, obviously!"

a

laughing?" I

light with

think they're adults

tell you

a—" Before Jacob could finish, I scooped up a generous dollop of ice cream and

a heartbeat, neither of us moved. Then, unable to hold


with the slow precision of someone plotting revenge. The ominous

slipped from my mouth as the realization of my mistake hit me. Without waiting

Evelyn!" Jacob's voice rang out behind me, followed by the

the narrow street, my heart racing from equal parts exertion and exhilaration.

up, effortlessly grabbing my arm and spinning

smugly, his

tried to wriggle free.

his ice cream across my cheek, a

squealed,

he wiped a smudge of mint chocolate chip from his own

Moments like this— carefree, silly, and so

***

to stay asleep. It was still late at night—I could tell by Jacob's steady breathing beside me. He was always the first to wake


open, I sat up slowly, my gaze settling on him. As expected, my man was

facing him. I could do this forever-watch him, savor the peacefulness of these moments. There was a serenity here, one I never wanted to lose. He was my peace. The meaning

ached to touch

jaw, thread through his soft

knewid wake him if

indulged, so I

realized I was still wearing his shirt. I like smelling just

quiet city below. Most apartments were cloaked in darkness, save for a few dimly lit windows. Above, the sky

for a while, soaking in the stillness and the soft whispers of the breeze against

chest, his chin resting on my shoulder as his hands settled

murmured, his voice soft and low, his lips brushing

was everything-comfort and fire, soothing and electrifying all at once. The shirt I wore had done little to shield

but warmth. He

like the final piece of a puzzle

asked, glancing over my shoulder. "I

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