- Gemma -
he dinner Alex made was delicious, but it was nothing compared to his company, which I’d missed more than I realized…his easy laugh, the way his big hands moved when he talked, the way his eyes watched me with a softness that made me feel like I could really be myself.
Even the way he cut the hunk of beef he’d cooked made me long for him, made me miss having his capable hands on me. What was I thinking pushing a man like him away? I was old enough to know good men were hard to come by. And good men that liked me back? That was an even shorter list.
After the second glass of wine, the awkwardness between us thawed significantly, and it almost felt like we were us again. The only difference was that we were both keeping our hands to ourselves, much to my disappointment.
Adding to my confusion, despite the easy and relaxed conversation, I still couldn’t tell if this dinner was supposed to act as an olive branch or a fresh start. Granted, he’d checked me out more than a few times, but that didn’t mean anything. After all, my cleavage was on display and he had a juicy piece of meat in his mouth. Any man would be seduced by such an arrangement.
As a result, I kept my cards pretty close to my chest over dinner, but as the meal drew to a close, I began to wonder if I was blowing my second chance with him by being too guarded.
Did I really think I could win him back without risking anything? Without being vulnerable?
Surely love didn’t work like that. Surely I couldn’t Rapunzel myself away and expect him to scale my tower if he didn’t know how badly I wanted him to climb up.
Oh God. I couldn’t even think straight. Not when he was looking at me like that, his chiseled face framed by candlelight.
“I have a chocolate gateau for dessert,” he said, setting his napkin on the table and leaning back in his chair.
“Did you say gateau instead of cake to make it sound fancier?”
“I did,” he said. “But it is pretty fancy. Wait till you see it. It has little curls of chocolate on top and icing so black it looks liquid.”
“Do you mind if we wait a few minutes?” I asked, glancing at my clean plate. “I’m absolutely stuffed after that.”
“Not at all,” he said, taking our plates to the sink. “I didn’t ask you over to force-feed you gateau.”
I poured the rest of the wine into our glasses and followed him over to the sink, watching as he rolled his sleeves up and loaded the dishwasher. Something about the scene made my stomach twist, as if I was looking in a crystal ball at the kind of future I might have if I could just muster the guts to reach out and grab it. “Why did you ask me over?” I asked, crossing my arms and leaning against the counter.
“Good question,” he said, glancing at me.
“Well?”
He closed the dishwasher and filled the potato pot with soap and hot water. “I guess I wanted to see where I stood.”
“Where you stood?”
“Yeah,” he said, wiping his hands on a fresh dishtowel before reaching for his wine glass. “With you.”
“Where do you want to be standing?”
He fixed his dark eyes on mine. “Much closer than I am now.”
I swallowed and felt a rush of heat up the back of my neck.
“More specifically, I want to know if you can forgive me.”
I bit the inside of my cheek.
“I know you might never understand why I did what I did.”
“You mean the heap of lies you built our relationship on and the fact that you drove me around in your mom’s car so I wouldn’t know you were rich?”
“I’m not rich,” he said. “I’m comfortable.”
I scoffed. “That’s the kind of thing rich people say.”
“If you like the Panda so much, I’ll get one.”
“That’s not my point.”
“What is your point?” he asked, cocking his head at me.
“My point is, I want to be honest with you, but I don’t want to be a fool.”
“That’s a shame. I feel like all our best decisions have been the direct result of foolishness.”
My mind flashed back to that first encounter in the steam room, to the way his skin slid across mine, to the way the hot air made it feel like his breath was all over me, when, in fact, it was only in all the right places…
“Why did you accept my invitation?” he asked.
“I guess I wanted to know where you stood, too. Where we stand.”
He clenched his jaw before knocking back the last of his wine.
“I do forgive you, though,” I said. “I know you didn’t lie to hurt me… At least, your other actions make it hard for me to believe that was your intention.”
His shoulders dropped two inches, as if he really had been worried about it. “I’m glad.”
“And you?”
“What about me?” he asked, narrowing his eyes.
“Do you still feel the way you used to? About me?”
He stared at me, but I couldn’t read his expression. All I could tell was that he was thinking hard about something.
My stomach sank. “If you don’t, I understand.”
He reached towards the breadbox on the counter, rolled the door up, and pulled out a small velvet box.
My heart rate surged.
“Does that answer your question?” he asked, sliding the box towards me.
My eyes dropped to it before rising again to meet his. “What is that?”
“Open it,” he said, lifting his chin.
I picked it up and popped it open, revealing a diamond so beautiful, the way it glistened was almost blinding. “I don’t understand,” I said. “What is this?”
“It’s the ring I’m going to propose to you with.”
My lips fell apart.
“Someday.”
“Someday…” I repeated. “So you’re not asking me to marry you now?”
He shook his head. “No. I’m not asking you. I’m telling you.”
I cocked my head.
“I will marry you,” he said. “Even if it takes another ten years for you to return my feelings, I’m prepared to wait.”
I lowered the box back down to the counter.
“Because it’s always been you, Gemma, and I will spend the rest of my life out-loving the competition if that’s what it takes. And someday, when the time is right and I’m confident you’ll say yes, I’ll pull that ring out and ask for real.” He reached for it and snapped the box closed before returning it to the breadbox. “Because I love you more than I ever thought I’d love anyone, and it feels great. So I’m not going to stop. No matter what you decide.”
I stepped up to him and laid a hand on his chest, my fingers gently tracing the buttons on his shirt.
He looked down at me, the conviction in his expression giving me courage.
“Would it overcomplicate things if I said I loved you back?”
He slid a hand along my cheek and into my hair. “It was already complicated,” he said, leaning down to kiss me.
I rose up on my toes to meet his lips and let him kiss me with a hunger that ignited my whole body. “Because I do,” I whispered, his hands tangled in my hair as he pressed his forehead to mine. “I think I may have even loved you first.”
His hearty laugh vibrated through my chest. “I love how competitive you are.”
“And I love how stubborn you are.”
He drew his neck back to admire me. “I can’t wait to marry you.”
“I didn’t say yes yet.”
One side of his mouth curved up. “Only because I haven’t asked.”
I swatted his chest. “Aren’t you confident all of a sudden?!”
“What man wouldn’t be with a woman like you barefoot in his kitchen?”
I rolled my eyes. “I think you skipped a few steps there.”
“You’re right.” He scooped me up in his arms. “I should give you a tour of the house before I ask you to move in.”
I draped my hands around his neck as he walked towards the entryway. “What about dessert?”
“Where do you think we’re going?” he asked, ascending the staircase carefully.
“But the fancy gateau!” I said, kicking my heels when we reached the landing. “You went to such trouble!”
He flashed his eyebrows as he whisked me through his bedroom door. “Don’t worry,” he said, tossing me down on his bed. “We can have it for breakfast.”