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The toast is sizzling on the stove, and my gaze veers to the griddle. “How about you feed me while you talk?”
He jumps into motion and saves the bread from burning. After the other sides cook for a couple of minutes, we settle side by side at the bar, two plates of French toast in front of us, and I wait for him to make his case. It’s something he’s always been good at—twisting the situation and his words to suit his agenda. I arm myself against this particular talent of his with the burned image of Cash in my mind.
With the memory of him blanketing me, hands clasped together as we became one for the first time. The way he let me cry afterward, without judgment.
The intensity in his eyes when he told me he loved me.
Chris is studying me, mouth a severe line of suspicion as I bring a bite of French toast to my lips. And I know I’ve fucked up already, as my feelings for Cash are no doubt playing across my face in all their tender glory.
He recognizes the lovesick expression because I used to look at him the same way.
“You met someone, didn’t you?”
Instead of answering, I shovel another bite into my mouth. Letting out a curse under his breath, he slides off the stool, leaving his plate untouched.
“I didn’t want to do this so soon,” he says, digging into his jeans pocket, “but I need you to know how serious I am about us.” In his palm lies a black jewelry box, and as he lowers to one knee, flipping the lid open, I drop my fork.
I can’t speak, can’t breathe, can’t stop him. I can’t do anything but gape at him like an idiot.
“I should’ve done this a long time ago, Jules. I mean, hell,” he says, a derisive laugh tumbling from his lips, “I’ve had the ring for over a year now.” He takes my clammy, limp hand in his, and I’m positive I’ve never seen his gaze so bright.
As if those deep brown eyes are on the verge of overflowing.
“I was a fool for letting you go.” He pauses long enough to swallow hard. “My issues pushed you into Perry’s bed, and my damn pride pushed you halfway across the country. I’ve never regretted anything so much. I know we have a lot to talk about, but I’m lost without you. Please say yes.” His fingers tremble as he works the ring free from the black box.
The silence between us is too loud, though not loud enough to quiet the memory of my mistake; it roars through my mind like a jet, and once again, I hate myself for hurting him the way I did.
“I don’t remember it,” I say, not sure why that’s the one thing that pops out of my mouth in this moment. The crease in his forehead indicates his confusion, so I add, “Sleeping with Perry. I don’t remember it.”
“I know. It took some time for it to sink in, but I know, Jules.” Something dark passes over his face—the shadow of a memory, the cloud of shared pain, the smothering blanket of regret. He brings my left hand to his lips, brushes the softest of kisses there, then he slides the ring on.
And once again, I’m speechless.
Floating in a mosaic dream that doesn’t make sense because this is too bizarre to be real.
Except it is, and the cold weight of the solitaire diamond is proof enough. I yank my hand back as if he burned me. “Chris, I—”
“I don’t want an answer now,” he interrupts, rising to his feet. He places a kiss on the crown of my head, and I settle my hand on his chest in a defensive move, overcome by the need for personal space.
But the way his heart is beating so damn fast steals my breath. You can’t fake that kind of reaction.
“I’ll call you later.” His words are low, tinged in pain and uncertainty, and as he slips out the front door of my apartment, I’m left wondering what the hell just happened.
