Page 128 of I Choose You

“Thank you.” I shook my head, smiling and feeling so damn cherished, tears threatened again. “I’m stunned. Seriously, thank you.”

She squeezed my hand once more, then left us to gather the items.

Kaden went first, propping his butt against the door as he carried the packages.

“This day has been surreal,” I admitted as I unlocked the back door to his SUV.

“It has. So what do you say we relax and come back down to reality? We can get a pizza.”

I shivered at the chilly breeze that reminded me it truly was autumn now.

He’d noticed, of course, although he was busy setting the boxes inside. “We can warm up in the hot tub and talk.” He shrugged. “Or something.”

I grinned, latching on to the promise of that or something.

43

KADEN

Brooke volunteered to order the pizza on the drive back to my house. She browsed for quite a while among the different places and their menus. I didn’t care what we ate. I wasn’t picky. Food was food and I loved it all. But the longer she kept her gaze glued to her screen, I wondered if it was something other than indecision.

Was she worried about gaining weight? Nitpicking and fussing with comparing calories and some intensive calculation of what she could “afford” to eat? Kody had dated a super health-nut girl before. He’d brought her to the lake house for a Fourth of July weekend, and every single time she was offered food at the potluck the neighbors did with us, everyone within earshot received a lecture about macro nutrients, percentages of vitamins, and ratios of digestive benefits.

Hell, maybe she was a nutritionist.

“Find something?” I asked.

She hummed in acknowledgment, glancing at me. “Maybe?”

“Is the connection bad?”

“No. It’s fine.”

Then what’s taking her so long? After the combustive way we came together in the bathroom, I was treading carefully. I didn’t want to overwhelm her any more than I already had. Sexually, at least.

It would be a long while before I’d forget the look of her crumbling and breaking down when I came in there. She’d been uncomfortable trying on clothes. She’d told me about that dysmorphia. But then I hadn’t helped by not supporting her, trying to keep my distance for the sake of protecting myself from being hurt more.

Had I known she did feel something for me, none of it would have spiraled to the state that it had reached. I would’ve been right there with her, including her throughout the clothing nonsense.

I wondered when she’d realized that she missed me. When she’d come to acknowledge her feelings for me—whatever they actually were.

Friends with benefits?

Was I her boyfriend?

I had every right to ask, but I held back, waiting. I would bask in her presence and take what I could while I could.

More than anything, instead of asking her to label what she felt for me, I wanted to address what had forced her into hiding in that bathroom. I hated to think of her suffering, and if I could help, I would.

I took her hand, and when she smiled and twined her fingers with mine, she sighed such a sweet, happy sound of contentment.

And I grinned.

“Sorry it’s taking me so long,” she admitted.

“Can I help decide?”

“Hey, you said I could pick.” She cleared her throat.