Page 119 of Lease to Love

"I don't know what this is anymore, Roman."

I'd heard the fear underneath those words.

She wasn't asking me to define our relationship because she needed a label. She was asking because she needed to know whether she was safe believing in it.

And I hadn't answered.

I'd let her go home with uncertainty sitting between us, and she'd spent the week doing what people did when uncertainty scared them.

Pulling back.

The calls got shorter.

The texts got fewer.

And between her work at the shop, my work at Sterling Group, we hadn’t been face-to-face all week.

And this conversation deserved a face-to-face. She deserved one.

Last night, she'd ended a FaceTime call after twelve minutes with a sleepy, "I'm tired. Good night," even though we'd both known she wasn't tired.

She was protecting herself.

And I couldn't blame her.

I'd spent weeks telling myself I needed to wait. That there was a deal. That there were terms. That eventually we'd have to go our separate ways.

But the truth was I'd stopped believing that somewhere around the first time she'd fallen asleep against my chest.

I knew what I wanted.

I'd known for weeks.

I just hadn't been brave enough to say it.

That was the part that pissed me off.

Because I didn't do uncertainty.

And I'd somehow allowed the one thing I couldn't control to become the most important thing in my life.

I pulled up in front of Ms. Langston's brownstone and parked.

Before I got out, I picked up my phone and typed out my reply to Summer.

Me: I have you to thank for it. Better than luck.

I hesitated, then added:

Me: I'll text you after.

I sent it before I could overthink it.

Then I got out of the car, climbed the handful of steps, and rang the bell once. Then twice.

A young woman in pink scrubs with locs and a warm smile opened the door.

"Mr. Sterling?"