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Last night, he seemed so distracted after checking it that I’m relieved when he says, “No, I’m good.”
The movie resumes, creepy music and all.
Long after we’ve eaten more than our fair share of food and polished off the bottle of wine, I find myself getting sleepy and gravitating toward him. I snuggle into him with a shiver.
“Cold?”
“Maybe a little.” Actually, I’m an inferno, thanks to the wine and the food foreplay.
He pulls a throw off the back of the couch and spreads it over me, followed by his arm.
“Thanks.”
“Sure thing.” After a few thundering heartbeats, I work up the courage to ask him something that’s been weighing on my mind since I woke up in his arms. “Beau?”
“Hmm?”
“Can I ask you a question?”
“Always,” he says sincerely.
“Is this okay?”
“Is what okay?”
“This.” I shrug under his loose embrace.
“Dinner? The movie? You need to be more specific, Sunny.” I hear the shift in his voice, and I feel it in the atmosphere.
I know his eyes are on me, but I keep staring straight ahead, watching Audrey Hepburn trying to outsmart burglars while I think about trying not to lose my heart to the man who is mine for now but not forever.
“The snuggling, the touching, the feeding each other… all of it.”
“I thought that was the whole point. If we’re engaged and I’m basically living here, people are going expect us to be affectionate and touchy-feely.”
“Yeah, I’m not talking about the PDA like hand holding and kissing in public.”
Say what you really mean.
Boom.
Boom.
Boom.
My heart crashes into my rib cage.
“I’m talking about here, when no one is watching.”
He clears his throat and takes so long to choose his words that another confession falls from my lips.
“I didn’t think it would be so hard,” I whisper.
“Me either,” he admits.
“So, what do we do about it?” I worry my lip between my teeth.
“I honestly don’t know.” A ragged sigh escapes his mouth, tickling my hair. “This is uncharted territory for me. The last thing I want to do is lead you on. I know we’re getting married, on paper at least—” Ouch! That stings.
