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“You’re more than just the person I wanna marry. You’re also my best friend,” he tells me. “No matter what. I love you and I don’t ever want you to forget how much you mean to me.”
“Stop being so gushy or you’re gonna make me cry,” I warn.
“If we don’t work out, Chloe, I just want you to know how much you being here for me through everything means.”
“Stop,” I say.
He doesn’t say anything for a minute. He’s searching my face. And now I’m wondering if he wants reassurance from me on the ‘if we don’t work out’ bit.
“You okay today? Better, or?”
“I’m hangin’ in,” I tell him.
“We’re gonna make it, I think,” he tells me. “If you haven’t given up on me, that is.”
Yep, he’s fishing for confirmation. For guarantees. And I’m feeling a little…numb. But he needs something here, so I answer softly with, “Of course I haven’t.” But my chin trembles and I think he sees the fear, the uncertainty in my eyes. I see it in his, too. But I see more emotion than I’ve seen, ever, too, and I’m hopeful that it means something good.
“If you change your mind and want to talk about the weekend, I’m here,” he tells me.
I nod.
“If you decide you wanna try that again, you can. I know how upset you were, but I want you to know that for now, those terms still stand. If you decide you don’t, I won’t push.”
“Okay,” I say after a minute of stunned silence.
“I still think we should sit down Sunday and talk about setting a wedding date. Talk about how we both feel at that point. Work for you?” he asks.
“Yeah,” I say softly.
But I’m not sure it does. I’m not sure of anything right now.
Seeming satisfied, he smiles. “Good. Okay, gotta go call my editor. Can I have a kiss?”
I lean down and kiss him softly. He holds my hand while I do.
“Love you,” he whispers.
“Love you,” I parrot. “I’ll transfer you the ten thousand for Paul now, okay?”
“You sure?”
“I’m sure,” I say.
Tuesday
After loading my groceries into the trunk of my Cherokee, I get the shock of my life. Because when I slam the trunk, I realize my SUV is nose-to-nose with Derek’s swanky Mercedes SUV. And he’s in the driver’s seat, eyes pointed at me.
I’m frozen in place for a beat when he crooks his finger.
I don’t think so.
By the time I’m opening my door, he’s coming this way, a tall drink of water in his leather jacket, dark jeans, and boots. I quickly get in and lock all the doors.
He raps on my window with his knuckle.
I shake my head and start it up.
He pulls sunglasses off his face and gives me what I think is a stern look as he knocks a little louder.
