“Just tonight.” I have to put a limit on it. One I stick to.
Tobias might be different, but so am I. I’m just not sure I’ve changed for the better. I can’t fix the damage that’s been done to me by falling all over a different man.
Even if, so far, it seems like this one might actually deserve to be fallen over.
“Just tonight,” Tobias agrees. He tips his head at my soup. “Finish up. It’ll make you feel better.”
I don’t know if that's true, but I eat it anyway. Because it’s really freaking good.
I’m just polishing off the last mouthful of buttery bread when someone rings the doorbell. My head swivels toward the front of the house. “You get visitors out here?”
Tobias's expression is flat. Almost angry. “No.” He stands from his seat. “I don’t.”
I twist in my seat as he stalks out of the kitchen toward the door. I hear it click open, followed by hushed voices I can’t quite make out. He comes back only a few minutes later,carrying a storage container. Inside it is a giant slab of peanut butter colored cake.
“I hope you left room, because Mariah has decided to grace us with a piece of her coveted caramel cake.” Tobias pops the lid on it, grabs two forks out of the drawer, and comes back to my side. He holds one of the forks out for me, waiting until I take it before dropping his eyes to the dessert. “You get the first bite.”
I haven't eaten much cake over the past few years, and my willpower is pretty much nonexistent, so I don’t argue. I scoop up a chunk and shove it in my mouth, moaning around the sweet, buttery, rich flavors. “Holy shit, this is delicious.”
Tobias’s eyes are locked on my lips. “Is it?”
I stop chewing, confused. “Haven’t you had it before?”
He shakes his head. “Titus is a little territorial about the caramel cake.” He takes a small bite for himself, tipping his head as his jaw works, flexing beneath the stubble covering his cheek. “And I think I see why.”
“You should get Mariah to teach you how to make this.” I steal another bite even though I’m technically full. Because I’m sick. And because my whole life has fallen apart. I don’t know if caramel cake will fix anything, but I do know it’s worth a try.
Also, holy shit why did I ever let a man make me give up cake?
“I’ll see what I can do.” Tobias takes another small taste. “But it makes a pretty big cake that I won’t be able to eat by myself, so you’ll have to come over and help me.”
I swallow, the mouthful of smooth frosting and moist cake thick as it works down my throat.
“I can’t keep coming over here, Tobias.”
I mean for it to sound strong. Serious. Finite.
Instead, it’s barely a whisper. Like I don’t actually mean it. But I do. I have to.
“Why not?” Tobias takes a sip of the beer he’s been nursing through dinner. “Are you married?”
I shake my head, relief at being able to answer negatively washing through me.
Tobias's eyes are sharp as they pin me in place. “Are you engaged?”
Again, I shake my head
He leans closer, deep voice lowering as his arm drapes across the back of my stool. “Are you otherwise committed and or entangled?”
I can barely breathe, but still manage another headshake. He’s so close. He smells so good. Last time he was fresh from a full day of work, and while he didn’t stink, the scent of motor oil and grease clung to his clothing. I didn’t mind, because it was so different from the way Matt always smelled, and I like that.
Tonight, he doesn’t smell like work, but he also doesn’t smell like my former fiancé. There is no cloying heaviness of expensive cologne clogging the air as I breathe. Just clean, fresh man. A hint of laundry soap. Tiny notes of some sort of spicy body wash or maybe deodorant.
It draws me in, and before I know what I’m doing, I’ve leaned closer. Pulled in a deep breath, eyes closing as it wiggles into the deepest parts of my brain, wrapping around a memory of how it felt when he used to hold me.
Tobias’s touch skims down the side of my neck, barely a whisper, just like his voice. “Then I don’t think there’s anything wrong with you being here with me whenever you want.”
That is exactly the problem. What I want isn’t identifiable. Not in any trustworthy capacity.
