Page 82 of Meant to be Mine

“Do we need to talk about it now?” I asked. I felt like a coward and hated it.

She studied my face for a long moment. “No,” she said finally. “I guess not.”

The silence stretched between us, heavy with everything we weren’t saying. I wanted to fix it. I wanted to tell her I’d figure something out. That we’d make it work somehow. But I couldn’t make promises I didn’t know how to keep. I couldn’t invent teleportation or move the coastlines together.

A knock at the door saved us both.

“Room service,” a muffled voice called.

I stood and grabbed the robe from the bathroom, tying it quickly. I opened the door to find a server with a cart loaded down with more food than two people could reasonably eat.

“Where would you like it, sir?”

“By the window is fine.”

He wheeled the cart over and began setting up. Silver domes covered most of the dishes. A bottle of champagne sat in an ice bucket. Fresh strawberries in a crystal bowl. Small ramekins of chocolate sauce and whipped cream.

I signed the bill and added a generous tip. The server thanked me and left. Kensey had gotten up and put on the other robe. She walked over to the cart and lifted one of the domes.

“You ordered an entire chocolate lava cake,” she said.

“Surprise.”

I poured two glasses of champagne and handed her one. She took it, her fingers brushing mine.

“To us,” I said, raising my glass.

She hesitated for just a second before clinking hers against mine. “To us.”

We drank. The champagne was good, crisp and cold and exactly what I needed to wash away the tightness in my chest.

I picked up a strawberry and dipped it in the chocolate sauce, then held it out to her. She leaned forward and bit into it, her eyes on mine. Some of the chocolate dripped onto her bottom lip. I reached up and wiped it away with my thumb.

“Messy,” I said.

“Your fault for feeding me.”

I dipped another strawberry, this time in the whipped cream, and ate it myself. The sweetness exploded on my tongue.

We stood there by the window, the city lights spread out below us, taking turns feeding each other strawberries and sipping champagne. The awkwardness from earlier didn’t disappear entirely, but it eased. We were good at this part. The comfortable silence.

“This is nice,” she said softly.

“Yeah.”

She set her glass down and moved closer, wrapping her arms around my waist. I held her, my chin resting on top of her head, and stared out at the city.

“We’ll figure it out,” I said.

She didn’t respond right away. Then she nodded against my chest. “Yeah. We will.”

I didn’t know if either of us believed it. But for now, I let myself pretend it was true.

She pulled back slightly, tilting her head up to look at me. I could see her working through it. She took a breath and let it out slowly. I felt that exhale in my soul.

“Tell me about this yacht party you’re dragging me to,” she said.

She was changing the subject. I was going to let her. I didn’t dwell on the negative. It would only ruin the time we had left.