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Oh, my. Obviously he’d decided to spend Sunday with her. And the whole of Sunday night too. Dare she hope he’d undergone such a miraculous conversion that he was ready to spend every waking second with her?
Or was this blissful weekend the beginning of the end?
“So what are we doing here?” she blurted out, suddenly panicked and quite unable to pinpoint why. “You’re staying all day, tonight and then what? I’m sorry, I can’t just go with it. I need some parameters here.”
The bag dropped to the floor and he leaned against the kitchen counter, his expression blank. “What kind of parameters do you want? I thought this was a pretty good compromise, bringing some stuff over. It’s not day by day, but no one’s made any promises they can’t keep. Were you expecting me to show up with more stuff?”
She’d been expecting less stuff, far less. She had no idea what to do with all the stuff he’d unloaded. Relationships were supposed to be structured, predictable. Weren’t they? Why hadn’t she practiced a whole lot more before this one? The two relationships she’d been in before were vastly inadequate preparation for Dax Wakefield.
“I wasn’t actually expecting you to show up at all,” she confessed. “I thought you’d bailed.”
“I sent you a text. Isn’t that our thing?” He grinned. “I thought you slept with your phone in your hand, pining for a message from me. That takes me down a few notches.”
Frowning, she scouted about for her phone and finally found it in the side pocket of her purse. On silent. She thumbed up the message.
Don’t eat. I’ll be back asap with breakfast. Can’t wait to see you.
All righty then. She blew out a breath and it turned into a long sigh. She kept looking for reasons not to trust him and he hadn’t disappointed her yet. What was her problem?
“Hey.” He pulled her into his arms and rested his head on top of hers. “You really thought I wasn’t coming back? You don’t do one-night stands. I respect that. I wouldn’t have come here last night if I didn’t.”
“Sorry,” she mumbled into his shirt in case she’d offended him. In truth, he didn’t sound anything other than concerned but she’d somehow lost the ability to read him. That scared her. “I’ll shut up now.”
“I don’t want you to shut up.” Pulling back slightly, he peered down at her. “Your mouth is the sexiest thing on you.”
With that, the tension mostly blew over. Or rather she chose to ignore the lingering questions so she could enjoy spending the day with a man she liked, who liked her back. It was a good compromise—for now. She didn’t like not knowing the plan or what to expect. But for today, she knew Dax would be in her bed at the end of it and that was something she readily looked forward to.
They had fun giggling together over a couple of Netflix movies and ate Chinese delivery for lunch.
“Let me take you someplace really great for dinner,” he suggested as he collected the cartons to dispose of them. “If you’ll actually eat, that is.”
He hefted her half-full takeout carton in deliberate emphasis.
“I’m not all that hungry,” she said out of habit, and then made the mistake of glancing up into his slightly narrowed gaze, which was evaluating her coolly. Of course he hadn’t bought that excuse.
Instead of taking the trash to the kitchen as he should have, Dax set the cartons back on the coffee table and eased onto the cushion next to her. “Elise—”
“I ate most of it. There’s no crime in not being hungry.” Her defensive tone didn’t do much for her case.
“No, there’s not.” He contemplated her for a few long moments. “Except you’re never hungry. I didn’t press you on it last night when you told me you gain weight easily because, well, I was a little busy, but I can’t ignore it forever. Do you have a problem I should know about?”
“Like anorexia?” The half laugh slipped out before she could catch it. This was not funny at all but he’d caught her by surprise. “I like food far too much to starve myself entirely, thanks.”
How had the conversation turned heavy so fast? And when precisely had they reached a point in their relationship where it was okay to throw it all out there, no censor, no taboos?
“Maybe not entirely,” he stressed. “But you don’t like yourself enough to have a healthy relationship with food either.”
Gently, he took her hand and she let him. His concern was evident. But he could stop with all the psychobabble any time now. She didn’t have a problem other than an intense desire to never be fat again. Nothing wrong with that.
