Midnight Kisses Jeanine Benedict -

He set down the bottle and walked toward her, slow, deliberate, the way he always did when he was giving her space to retreat. That was the thing about Leo. He never crowded her. He never pushed. He just… waited.

The rain had stopped exactly one minute before midnight, as if the city itself was holding its breath for Jeanine Benedict. midnight kisses jeanine benedict

“So when you tell me you’re scared of leaving me,” Leo continued, “I want you to understand something. I’m not asking you to stay for me. I’m asking you to let me come with you.” He set down the bottle and walked toward

“Three minutes is a lifetime.” He set the bag down on the small bistro table she’d painted yellow last spring. “I brought champagne. And those little chocolate croissants from the place on Magazine Street. The ones you like.” He never pushed

The words hung in the damp air between them. Leo’s hand paused on the neck of the champagne bottle. His smile didn’t falter, but something shifted behind his eyes—a flicker of the same fear she’d been carrying for weeks.

“I hate that about you.”