Page 57 of Nothing At All

“Yes.” I buried my burning face in my hands. “He says he’ll wait, but I feel awful–”

“You can’t force that. Or rush it.” Lacey tugged my hands down, covering my fingers with hers. This time her sympathy was for me. “It happens differently for everyone all the time. Oh, my gosh, I told Josh way too soon. He freaked out. I was embarrassed, and he was gutted. We broke up and–”

“I remember that.” Affectionate amusement laced Vic’s voice. “He was a mess for days.”

“Then he showed back up with flowers and an I love you, and I was like, nope. I couldn’t believe it because it felt too much like convenience and guilt.”

“That’s what I’m afraid of.” Miserable, I stared at my untouched cupcake. “That I’ll get there – and I can – but he won’t believe me.”

“How do you know you’re not already there?” Vic took an unbothered swallow of coffee.

I stared at her. She stared back with that impassive look.

Clenching my hands around my mug, I swallowed. “I’ve never really been in love.”

“There’s a difference between in love and loving. Like Roman is in love with himself, but he doesn’t love himself. It’s possible to have both, though. Romantic feelings, which you two have, but put-the-other-first-feelings? You two might have that also.” Vic shrugged, badge glinting in the late sunlight streaming in through the big plate glass windows. “I mean, you’re here, putting yourself out there with people you don’t know well, trying to be better for him, be what he needs.”

Straightening, Lacey fixed me with a bright grin. Vic quirked a brow and lifted her mug in a salute. “I mean . . . that says a lot.”

I supposed it did. But did it say enough?

Chapter Seventeen

Lila

I took him home to meet my parents.

Not for a whole weekend – I wasn’t doing that to either of us for their first meeting – but for lunch. We left a little after eight, and of course, traffic packed the Grady Curve even on a Saturday.

One wrist draped over the steering wheel, Dan huffed in amusement. “I’m driving in Atlanta for you.”

“I offered to drive.” Elbow propped on the door, I wound my hair around my finger. “You chose this.”

“Right.” He tapped his fingertips on the dash. Sunglasses covered his eyes, but his alert stance told me he was watching all the lanes around us. “I’m going to pull up to your daddy’s house in the passenger seat.”

Behind my own sunglasses, I rolled my eyes. “I assure you he would not care.”

“I’d care.”

He was mildly ridiculous, but I kept that to myself. I’d never done this before, so what did I know? Maybe there was some unwritten Southern man code about who had to drive to the first meeting of the parents . . . and maybe both he and Daddy would be aware of that code. So maybe the driving was like the bottle of wine nestled on the backseat, a gift for my mama.

It didn’t matter that I said he didn’t have to take her anything. He’d looked at me like I’d lost my mind, all while texting Chuck’s brother about the best wine to buy.

“My mama put me through cotillion.” He’d squinted at his phone and typed out another text. “You take a hostess gift.”

He was precious.

Despite the traffic currently snarled around us, the drive up was great. We’d played road games from our childhoods and talked about whatever random topic crossed our minds. While we’d been in a vehicle together tons of times over the past few months, this little jaunt was the longest we’d ridden together. We hadn’t made it on that weekend trip we’d talked about, and my chest panged at the idea of the cabin he’d never booked.

Maybe I could book one. Perhaps I’d ask him to save a weekend and then surprise him.

When we arrived, happiness jumped in my chest. I loved my childhood home, a weathered brick and stone house tucked on a narrow lot in an old neighborhood. Even with regular video calls, I missed my parents. I didn’t go home twice a month like I had when I was at UGA, and it was so good to see home.

Part of the reason for that was tall and had beautiful navy eyes and was walking around to open my door. He looked good, too, a gray sweater paired with blue chinos and brown loafers. The athletic cut to those pants clung, too, and my Lord, those thighs.

He swung the truck door open and propped his arm on the top. “You’ve got to quit looking at me like that.”

That stern expression left me breathless. With a cheeky grin, I reached back for the wine bottle. I slipped out of the truck, standing close to him. A whiff of subtle aftershave tickled my nose. “Like what?”