I nod once. “All right.”
He holds my gaze, like he’s making sure I understand what that means.
“I’m not backing out halfway,” he says. “If I do this, I do it.”
“Good.”
“I mean it,” he says, but there’s no real heat in it. Just… nerves, maybe. “I don’t do half-measures.”
“Neither do I.”
That’s the first real flicker of something between us that isn’t just banter.
He lets out a breath that turns into a small, disbelieving laugh.
“Bloody hell,” he mutters. “I’ve actually said yes.”
Yeah.
He has.
“Right,” he says, pushing back his chair. “Let’s go before I remember who I am.”
Outside, the air hits cooler than it should.
He stops just beyond the door, like the shift from inside to outside has caught him off guard.
Or maybe it’s the fact that this is real now.
I give him the second.
Don’t move too close. Don’t reach for him.
Not yet.
He looks up and down the street, grounding himself.
Then at me.
“You’ve got a car?” he says.
“Yeah.”
“Why am I not surprised?”
“You can still walk away,” I offer.
He looks at me sharply. “Don’t.”
“Don’t what.”
“Don’t make this easier to back out of.”
“Okay,” I say.
We start walking.
It’s not far, but I don’t rush it.
