Page 90 of The Best I Never Had

It’s moments like this that have fucked with my head. I can see what our future would be like, how we’d argue, but that each of us would try to put the other first. I’d be such a good partner to her, treat her like the equal she is while worshipping the ground she walks on. But she chose a life that doesn’t fit me.

“I’m happy for you. Really, I am. You deserve it,” I say, pulling back to look up into her beautiful face. “I’m just going to miss you when you move.”

Her large brown eyes go even larger. “Are you talking about the job offer from Camila?”

“Is there another reason you’d move up here? Are you planning on eloping with Gabriel?”

She clicks her tongue. “Not yet. Gotta wait until he’s old enough that I can’t get arrested for it.”

I drop my head back to her chest, laughing into her skin, but I sober just as quickly. “You don’t owe me information about your choices. I just … I don’t know. We shared so much yesterday and I thought we were on the same page, so learning that you’re keeping this huge thing from me, it felt like a betrayal.”

“Owen—”

Shit, she’s going to think I’m such a dick, believing I’m entitled to her decisions.

I rush to add, “I know it wasn’t one. We agreed we’d take the week to see if we wanted to pursue this, and I promised you could walk away if that’s what you wanted.”

She wraps her fingers in my hair, giving it a tug. “When would I have told you? You’ve refused to talk to me all afternoon.”

“I don’t know, maybe some time between us baking the cakes and you coming on my cock?”

She laughs, and I can’t tell if her reaction pisses me off or soothes the ache inside me. “She offered me the job this morning.”

I blink up at her. “This morning, as in … today.”

“No, this morning as in a month ago,” she deadpans. “Yes, this morning!”

I feel like a total asshole. I’ve given her the cold shoulder all afternoon, had decided what this meant for our relationship before she’d even been offered the damn position. But just because she hadn’t known yet doesn’t mean that she isn’t going to take it. I can’t let myself hope only to be crushed again.

“I’m such a jackass. My mom told me about it first thing this morning and said it was a done deal. I’m sorry.” I force myself to swallow before asking, “And what do you think about it?”

There’s a pressure in my chest as I wait for her answer, so strong I have to fight the urge to look down, sure I’ll see an anvil pushing against it. Or maybe the hard barrel of a shotgun, ready to destroy my heart on her word.

Her mouth pulls to the side. “About the job? Of course I’m not taking it.”

All the tension in my body is sucked out in an instant, but it’s followed by crushing guilt. I think of her face—the smile that stretched across it and the light in her eyes while talking to the customers—and I hate the idea of her passing up something that would bring her joy.

She must see the concern in my eyes, because she goes on. “Did you really think I’d walk away from this? That I’d do it without talking to you?”

I look up at her, my gorgeous, heart-stopping girl. “I think you’re the most incredible person I’ve ever met and so far out of my league it’s laughable.”

“Then I’m not doing my job.” She traces the line of my jaw with her fingertips, and I lean into the feeling. “You should know you’re perfect and that I think I’m the luckiest woman in the world that you’re willing to even look at me.”

I shake my head. “Part of me still thinks this is a very elaborate dream I’m going to wake up from at any moment.”

She brushes my hair off my brow. “It’s not.”

I give her body a tug, and she falls into my lap, legs on either side of my hips. “You’re real?”

She sighs and lets her lips drift over mine. “I could ask the same of you.”

My grip on her hips tightens, grinding her down against where I’m rapidly hardening and showing her just how real I am. Her head drops back, and I run my lips down her neck, reveling in that spicy scent. I lap at the spot where her pulse is beating wildly, and she moans.

“Owen,” she whimpers, and I love the sound of my name on her lips, the way she whines like she’s coming apart at the seams. She’s always so strong. Watching her turn soft in my arms is a drug I don’t think I’ll ever be able to kick.

I inch up her dress until I glimpse her light blue lace underwear, and a loud groan tears from my throat. She’s so perfect. When she rolls her hips over mine, her heat is right over my aching cock, and I wrap my arms around her, anchoring our torsos together.

“I’m sorry,” I whisper into her neck. “I should have just talked to you.”