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“Well, what do you think?”
“What is all this?”
He takes my hand again and brushes my knuckles with his thumbs. A tingly sensation shoots through my body.
“I told you I would try, Raven.”
If this is him just trying, then Lord help me. It may not seem like much, but this is
Mr. I-Don’t-Do-Romance here. He leads me to the blanket and I sit as modestly as I can. After dropping down next to me, he lifts the stainless steel food cover with a smile.
“I hope you’re hungry.”
Lobster and shrimp linguine, garlic bread, crackers, cheese, cold cuts, a fruit platter, and chocolate cake. There’s a bottle of sparkling cider chilling in a champagne bucket. It’s like a mini-feast. My stomach rumbles.
“Starving.”
“Dig in, doll.”
We eat in silence until I think I’m about to go crazy. This is new for him, but guilt is quickly eating away at my sanity. Do I tell him now or wait until after dinner?
“How was your day?” I ask instead.
“Good.”
He opens the bottle of cider, pouring two glasses.
“Did some work. Hung out with E.”
“That’s nice.”
“You?”
I accept the glass he offers and brace myself. “Same. Did some chores. Hung out with Chris.”
I didn’t expect him to say ‘that’s nice.’ The angry stare? Yes. That I did expect.
“What did you do?”
“Nothing. Talked.”
“Did you break up with him?” he asks.
“No.”
“Why the hell not?”
“He...he told me he loves me,” I stammer.
“I see. So I guess he stays. What are you going to do? Keep both of us around?”
Why is this so hard? If it’s the right thing it should be easy, right? I can’t even look him in the eyes.
“No.”
He chuckles, but it’s a mirthless one.
“Why did you come here, Raven?”
