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Twenty-Eight
Sage
“Look at us, being all conventional,”I murmur over a plate of pasta and the glass of wine in front of me. I’ve put on my favorite black dress, and Cash looks like pure lust in his suit and his tie a little undone. He’s got that two-day stubble that makes me go crazy if a man pulls it off just right—and Cash pulls it off and then some.
“Hey, this was your idea. I was fine dining in,” Cash replies with a smirk, his foot finding mine under the table.
“We have to eat sometime, and if we’re not in public, I feel like you won’t give me a moment to do anything but romp with you.”
“Like you mind,” he teases.
I take a sip of my wine in response.
Because the truth is—I don’t mind. Not one bit.
For the past few days, Cash has been in my condo more than he hasn’t been. It’s like now that we’ve crossed the bridge, gotten over our insecurities, there’s no stopping us. I’ve realized how amazing it is to have someone to share my life with, even the humdrum, daily life parts. Waking up in his arms, eating breakfast together. It’s suddenly become worthwhile. It’s like a new part of me is alive, one I didn’t know had faded away.
I look at the man across the table and think about all the reservations we’ve fought through to get to this point. I think about how the Sage from a few months ago would have vomited to hear my cheesy sentiments, to see how utterly crazy I am for the dark-eyed Texan I’m now sharing Italian cuisine with.
I think about how easy it would be to take a step back, to return to that guarded-heart Sage who convinced herself she didn’t care about anything but work and sex. But looking at Cash, I think about how I don’t want to do anything of the sort.
The words spew out before I can stop them, but in truth, I’m glad. I don’t want to stop them. The walls are down now, and I’m a forward person. I go after what I want with reckless abandon, without hesitation or pause.
And he’s a cause worth chasing.
“I’m falling for you, Cash Creed,” I whisper just a decibel over the cheesy music playing in the restaurant. His eyes stare into mine, perusing me with a languid tenacity.
“I’ve already fallen for you, Sage Everling.”
Dinner continues with a newfound sense of intimacy, of trust, and of a promise that we’re not going back to where we came from. We’re in new territory—but we’re traversing it together, always together. Nothing’s changing that.
It’s a risk, it’s true. There are no promises in love, even if you’re playing for keeps.
But we’re both playing now, all in. Completely and utterly all in.
We go home to my place, and in the darkness of my room, I know that there’s absolutely no going back. He possesses me now, in every way imaginable.
And for once, I’m fine that someone else is taking the reins.
