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“She wasn’t wrong,” he chuckles.
“Yes, I recall our countless conversations on the subject.” How could I not? It’s the main reason we’re stuck in the friend-zone.
He’s quiet for a few beats. His gaze implores mine, delving deep enough that I feel him searching. “You have no damn clue.”
“About what?” My voice is breathy from the impact of his stare.
“How much I want to prove I can be the man for you.”
“Then why don’t you?”
“I don’t trust it.”
Hurt slashes my chest. “You mean me?”
“Just this”—he motions between us—“in general.”
“You won’t know if you’re not willing to try,” I murmur.
“Which circles back to us dating.”
I shake my head to clear the haze. “Where is this coming from all of a sudden?”
“It’s not out of nowhere.” Garrett cups my jaw, his thumb brushing over the tipped angle. “You have to know I’m crazy about you. I just…”
“Don’t trust it,” I repeat his earlier phrase.”
“But I want to try. Maybe we can do a trial phase. If I suck after a week or two you have my permission to dump me.”
Bullish laughter snorts from me. “And where will that leave me?”
“Right back here.” He waves a dismissive hand at our surroundings. “Consider it a slight detour that might lead to happily ever after.”
“Your faith in yourself is extremely reassuring.” But I can’t lie. This test phase holds appeal. Mostly because I get to be with Garrett.
“I’m rusty. Cut me some slack.”
“You want strings attached?”
“With you? Absolutely. Until we’re a knotted mess that can’t be separated.”
“That sounds very entangled,” I muse.
“I’m already committed to you, Peaches. I was just being a coward. Afraid to define the depth of that term where we’re concerned.”
Am I foolish for stumbling into his admission? I can’t find a single reason to not trust him. Garrett has only been honest with me, even when the truth was painful to hear. The comfort he provides just sitting beside me is telling.
I could drag this out and play hard to get, but that would just delay the inevitable. It’s no secret I want Garrett Foster in a more than friendly manner. The fact that I already slept with him should reveal as much. Might as well make it official.
Rather than leave him hanging, I lean into his touch that’s still cradling my face. “This is beginning to feel like I’m getting everything I want.”
He flinches. “Maybe not everything. I can’t promise that I’ll ever want to get married. But I’m willing to consider the possibility for you. Only you. But—”
My finger presses against his lips. “I don’t need more conditions on yet another amendment to our agreement.”
“Listen,” he mumbles around my flimsy gag. “I can’t let you compromise for me. You want the fairytale ending with a bow attached. That’s what you deserve. I’ll understand if you don’t accept my cautionary stride into the dating pool as significant enough.”
“Who’s to say we need to get married?”
