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“Can I ask you a question?”
“Answer mine first.” He lifts his brows. “Please?”
It’s the please that gets me.
“Time’s almost up.”
A slow smile spreads across his face. “So, you’re telling me there’s still a chance.”
“A lot depends on how you handle this.”
“Tell me what I need to do.” He sits up straighter, paying close attention, like I’m the teacher and he’s the student.
“I love that you’re working on yourself.” I slide back into the booth, running straight into him since he scooted farther across the bench after I vacated it, and now that I’m back, he doesn’t move. Meaning I’m pressed right up against him. All that warm, solid muscle smashed into me is enough to leave me lightheaded. “I was afraid you were going to drown yourself in alcohol and women after my—blow up.”
“There is no other woman for me,” he says, deadly serious.
My heart rate ratchets up. “Don’t say things you don’t mean.”
“I mean every word I say.” He watches me, not reaching out to touch me. Not doing anything else but letting those words sink in, his gaze intense. He means it.
I can tell.
And, oh God, that leaves me feeling all giddy and fluttery inside.
Taking a deep breath, I mentally tell myself to calm down. “Before we—do this, you have to tell Knox.”
“Tell Knox what, exactly?”
“Whatever it is you feel about me. You don’t have to say it to me right now, but you need to tell Knox about us.” I hesitate. “Sooner rather than later.”
“I’ll tell him,” he readily agrees.
“You will?” I sound full of doubt.
Iamfull of doubt.
He nods, pushing against me like he wants me out of the booth. “Let’s go now. I’ll tell him when I get home.”
“But he just left with Joanna.”
“Pretty sure they’re going back to our place.”
Is he purposely being dense? “I think they’re going to be…involved in other activities with each other by the time you get there.”
“I’ll tell them after they have sex then,” he says, sounding perfectly logical. “When he’s all mellow and more willing to listen to me.”
“Eww.” I make a face, and he chuckles. “Maybe you should wait and tell him tomorrow.”
“Whatever. Just know that I will tell him.” He stops trying to push me out of the seat. “What else do I need to do?”
“Accept the fact that I want you for who you are and stop trying to push me away by saying you’re not good enough.” My voice is soft, and I’m hoping he doesn’t take offense. That is my biggest pet peeve with him. I don’t like how he does that. If a man keeps telling you that he’s wrong for you, then eventually, he’s only proving the point.
“I can do that too.” His gaze is imploring as he stares into my eyes. “I’ve been talking to a therapist.”
“You have?” I’m surprised. And relieved.
He nods. “Twice a week. Betty’s cool.”
