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“To the woman who changed my world.” He clinks our glasses together.
“To the man who changed mine,” I add on, tipping the glass to my lips once more. “You know, being here brings back a lot of memories from that first night.”
“Like what?” He picks up a tiny sandwich, popping it into his mouth.
I do the same, tasting the most delicious chicken salad I’ve ever had spread between the small squares of bread.
“Like you strong arming me into having dinner with you.”
“You were harder to sway than I had anticipated, I’ll give you that.”
“You know, you never did tell me why.”
“Why what?” He sets his glass to the side.
“Why you came here. Why you bought this house, specifically. Why you insisted I have dinner with you.”
“I’ve already answered all those questions.”
“Not really.” I shake my head. “I mean, why me? Better question, how did you even know who I was to know that you wanted to take me to dinner?”
“I didn’t.” He shrugs.
“So you just walked in and thought, hey, she seems like fun.”
“Not exactly.”
“Then explain it to me.”
“I had already spoken to the seller. They’d informed me that you were hosting an open house and I offered to deliver the news personally. I didn’t really have a plan going in. But then I saw you, and I don’t know, I just knew I had to know you.”
“Uh huh.” I eye him skeptically, not fully buying his story but knowing I have nothing to challenge it with.
“You think a man can’t see a beautiful woman and improvise?” He cocks his head to the side, a smile tugging at the corner of his mouth.
“Oh no, I absolutely do. I just don’t buy that there isn’t more. Why come deliver the news personally? Why not let the sellers inform me?” The wheels in my head are turning. I may have not questioned much up to this point, but as this has become very real to me, I feel like I need the truth and for some reason, I don’t think he’s giving it to me.
“Maybe because I wanted to be an asshole.”
“An asshole about what? Were you planning on cutting me out?” He gives me a look that tells me I might be on the right track. “That’s it, isn’t it? You were going to cut me out.”
“I’m not proud of it. I was in a bad place. My lowest since losing baseball. I was feeling vindictive and vengeful for no other reason than I could. But then I walked in, and there you were.”
“You realize you could have anyone in the world, right?”
“I only want you.”
My heart damn near explodes in my chest.
“I only want you, too,” I admit, meaning it with all that I am.
“Okay, I’ve restrained myself long enough.” He rocks forward onto his knees, pushing the basket and food to the side before crawling across the blanket toward me.
When he reaches me, he takes my champagne flute, drinks the contents, and sets it off to the side.
I’m about to protest that he drank my champagne, when he presses his lips to mine and leaks the sweet, bubbly goodness into my mouth.
I moan around the action but he quickly swallows up the sound.
