Page 67 of Only Be Mine

I hesitated, looking back at the locked door, then at the storm pressing in around us.

“Okay,” I said finally. “Yeah, sure.”

He smiled, relieved, and gently linked his arm through mine, steering me toward his car. The contact felt familiar. Safe. Or at least it had always felt that way before.

Inside, the heat fogged the windows almost instantly.

Trevor drove carefully, hands tight on the wheel, the snow swallowing the road ahead of us. He didn’t say anything until we pulled off at the next exit and into another nearly deserted lot.

“Where are we?” I asked.

He smiled. “Thought you could use something warm.”

The coffee shop was small and bright, the smell of espresso heavy in the air. Trevor ordered for both of us without asking.

“Two tall vanilla lattes,” he told the barista, then glanced back at me. “I’ve got it.”

I slid into a booth near the door, keeping my coat on. I wasn’t planning to get comfortable. This was a detour, nothing more.

He joined me a moment later, setting the cup in front of me like an offering.

He shrugged out of his coat and draped it over the back of the chair, settling in like this was exactly where he’d planned to be.

I didn’t take mine off.

I wrapped my hands around the cup, letting the heat seep into my fingers. “So,” I said, keeping my voice light, “What did you want to talk about?”

He smiled faintly, like I’d rushed something. “You always get right to the point.”

I returned the smile, though it didn’t quite reach my eyes. “I do have an appointment.”

He hesitated, gaze drifting to the window, the snow pressing against the glass.

“It’s about John,” he said.

Just like that, the air changed.

“What about him?”

“You’ve only been together a year,” he said carefully. “Don’t you think getting married that fast is… risky?”

The word scraped.

“I don’t,” I said.

He reached across the table, covering my hand with his. “I like you, Cate.”

I laughed softly, more surprised than amused. “You like me?”

His expression shifted, something tight and frustrated slipping through. “He’s not right for you.”

My stomach dropped.

“He’s impulsive,” Trevor continued, voice gaining momentum. “He doesn’t think long-term. I could give you stability. I could take care of you. You wouldn’t have to worry about money or work or…”

I pulled my hand back.

“You’re serious,” I said.