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Oh. I catch her hand when it wanders up my cheek again. “Do you like it?”
“I like it,” she says, her voice going lower, and Jesus, I’m so hard right now.
But I’m not getting sidetracked from my plan this time. I kiss her hand. “Good. So how about dinner with me?”
“Dinner?”
“Didn’t you find the food?”
“Oh yes. I did. And the flowers.”
I love her blush. “You didn’t check the oven,” I say. “There’s also cake.”
Forget the cake, she looks edible. Sweet. I want to lick her skin and b
ite her neck, leave hickeys. Mark her. Eat her up.
Control, Kaden.
“Is it… the birthday thing you talked about?” She swallows hard. “Is this what this is about? You meant it?”
“I have meant every single word I’ve said to you.” I cup her face. “I love you. I fucking missed you. I want you. This. Us.”
She blinks, lashes lowering. “Kade…”
I don’t wanna talk now. Don’t wanna admit I remember. I just want this evening for us, to show her how it could be.
How it can be from now on.
Oh, I’ll talk all right. Only not about the fight. About things I never told her. I’ll bring my walls down for her.
And I’ll make sweet love to her, just to prove I’m capable of it.
Proving myself to her, that’s what tonight is all about.
The other talk can fucking wait.
She sets the dining table for two and I warm up the food in the microwave. I’m not supposed to drink anything, not with a concussion and not with this medication, but she can.
Maybe she’ll need it.
So I take out the chilled white wine and uncork it, then pour her a generous glass and place it beside her plate on the table.
She stares at it. Then she shoots me a questioning glance.
“Let’s eat,” I say and my stomach rumbles, agreeing with me. “The flowers are for you, by the way.”
Not the carefully prepared speech I’d composed in my head. I can’t even remember what I meant to say, and this came out like an order. Like the flowers were an afterthought. I was supposed to pull back her chair and offer her those flowers. Say something nice.
My vision is swimming, though, so I guess for right now this is the best I can do.
She smiles at me, a brilliant smile, so I guess I haven’t fucked up completely yet.
But hey, the night is young.
The food is good. It’s from my upstreet delivery place, a French place I’ve heard people talk about but never tried before.
Then I look up to see Hailey toying with her food, pushing a potato around her plate with her fork, and the food sticks in my throat.
