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"You still thinking about that recording?" Wilder nudges me lightly.
I place a hand on his beating heart. "I'm going to keep it forever."
"I want a copy then," he smirks.
"Why?" I lift my head.
"So, I can keep a copy forever, too."
My heart aches. The kind of ache knowing some moments are perfect, but perfect moments don't last forever.
I've never been this afraid of losing someone before. Not even Cash. I've never been afraid that all the things Wilder and I do in secret—like sneaking into country clubs and kissing beneath the flickering porch light—will end. That we'll have to end. That if or when Cash comes back—when the dark and murky thing hovering above us explodes back into our lives—Wilder will choose him and I'll be left heartbroken.
"Why the long face?" Wilder asks me.
I lick my lips nervously as I think back to my conversation with Pierre yesterday.
If you like him more than you've ever liked anyone, tell him.
What if he doesn't care?
The world is your oyster, Ingrid. Take it by the horns.
If only it were that simple. If Wilder wasn't Cash's best friend. If I wasn't Cash's ex-girlfriend. If we didn't live in a small town that runs rampant with rumors, gossip, and expectations.
"Blondie?" Wilder's voice slashes through all the noise.
"I like you," I tell him.
The corner of his mouth tips up. "I know."
"No," I shake my head as his fingers caress my cheek. "I really like you. I've never felt this way about anyone and I'm so afraid that... that..."
"That what?" he says hoarsely.
"I'm afraid that you're going to break my heart," I tell him. He lays perfectly still as I inhale sharply. "Say something, please."
Wilder shifts so more of his body is touching mine. "I don't want to break your heart."
"But if Cash comes back," I argue, "we can't... we can't keep doing this."
"We can't?" he whispers.
I search his hazel eyes, more green this morning than gold. "You're his best friend and I... I don't know how we can do this if you're... if he's..."
Wilder kisses my forehead. "Let's not worry about that right now, Blondie. Let's just take it day by day."
I squeeze my eyes shut tight. "Okay."
"You still hungry?" There's that wall. The one he always builds around his heart when I get a little too close.
"Yeah," I answer as I slip out of his arms and search for my robe.
"Blondie," he calls after me, but I ignore him and tie the silky material around my waist.
When I turn around, I have a smile plastered to my face. "I'm not a good cook but I can make toast."
"I like toast," Wilder raises his eyebrows before he tosses the blankets off him, and I physically ache from how beautiful his naked body is.
