Tyler

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I’ve been good at keeping secrets.

I have a great poker face. If I need to keep something to myself, I damn well keep that shit locked up tight. I don’t mean dangerous secrets that eat away at your soul. I simply mean that when I was a kid, I never gave up the goods on what my little brother was getting for Christmas even after I saw a receipt for a new bike sticking out of my mom’s purse. Likewise, I don’t ever let on in a negotiation that I’m one step away from signing a deal, not until I need to play those cards.

Last night, I was a vault, too.

This morning, the cat’s coming out of the bag.

I rise before Delaney, toss a fresh, clean T-shirt on the bed for her to tug on when she wakes up, then head quietly to the bathroom to take a piss. I wash my hands and brush my teeth, then put on a pair of boxer briefs. I walk to the kitchen, pull open a utensil drawer, and take out a few items I’ll need. Then, I whip up breakfast for my girl.

Eggs, toast, and fake bacon, as well as a steaming cup of green tea since I know she prefers that to coffee.

Soft feet pad across the floor, and she wanders in, sleepy-eyed with matted hair, but a fantastic morning-after smile on her face. My white T-shirt lands at her upper thighs and looks hot as fuck on her. Especially since I know she’s bare under it. She rises on tiptoe and gives me a kiss on the cheek. “Morning,” she whispers, as her minty fresh breath floats near my mouth.

I turn away from the pot of tea and give her a full and proper kiss. When I break it, I arch an eyebrow. “If I were president, I’d abolish morning breath.”

“You so have my vote.”

I gesture to the stool at the counter. “Sit. Eat. I made you breakfast. Your favorite. And I got you free-range, farm-fresh, all-natural, one hundred percent organic eggs. Actually, come to think of it, I even hand-picked the eggs from a sustainable local farm, and I met the hen in advance. Nice gal. Her name was Cluckity-cluck.”

She shoots me a look that says impressed. “And did you thank Cluckity-Cluck for her services?”

“I told her I was most appreciative,” I say as I slide a plate to her then set one down for me.

She peers over the counter at the clock on the microwave. “I have a massage at ten. But that give us time for breakfast, and . . .”

“I’ll take both the meal and the and.” I join her at the counter, and we eat and talk. It all feels so natural and right. I’m more confident than ever that there’s so much more to us getting back together than just the sparks in bed. But I need her to know that, too. I want to give her all the security I can. I want her to know this time is for real. I drum my fingers on the counter. “Remember in my office when you said you were worried this was just sex?”

She nods. “Yeah? Why do you ask?”

“It’s not, Delaney. It’s so much more than that.”

She smiles and swipes a strand of hair off her cheek. “I know that, Tyler. I’m good on that front.”

But I want her to know it in a bone-deep way. I reach over the counter, grab the box I removed from the utensil drawer, and take her hand in my free one. “Marry me.”

She blinks.

This is the secret I kept last night. “I love you. I’m in love with you. I want to do this right. I want us to be together. I’m not going anywhere this time, and I need you to know that.” I say it with certainty, with confidence. And yeah, with bravado. She’s going to say yes. She has to. This is what we both want.

Her lips part, but no sound comes out. Her irises go wide. Then she closes her eyes, and when she opens them, she regards me as if she’s viewing a disaster scene, taking in rubble, broken homes, shards of glass. “I don’t . . .”

A seed of doubt roots around in my chest, but I shove it aside. This is my bailiwick. This is what I do well. I go big. And there’s no better reason to do it than to win her heart forever.

Fuck doubt.

I flip open the box, and the glint from the diamond ring shines brightly. So brightly, she looks away, like she needs sunglasses.

But I won’t lose this one.

I make my case to the jury. “I’m in love with you, and nothing is going to change that. I need you to know I’ll be here for you always. I want to prove that I’ve changed. Prove that I’m worthy.”

She crinkles her brow, and her lips pull down. That looks distinctly like a frown, and my chest pinches.

“Tyler,” she says, her voice soft but full of warning.

“Yeah?”

She gets off the stool and stands up. She shakes her head. “This is certifiably insane.”

“Why?”

She grabs her head, digging her fingers against her temple like she’s trying to process what’s happening. “We just had sex. And you’re trying to prove this isn’t about the sex. We just got back together. And you’re trying to tell me you’re going to love me forever. That’s insane,” she says, her words falling out in a mad rush.

“It’s not insane. It’s right.” But my voice is the wobbly one now.

“I’m not your next business deal. I’m not your next risk. I’m not your next chance to prove you can roll the dice and win. I’m a person. A woman. And I’m not ready to marry you. I’m not even ready to be engaged.”

“Why not? Sounds brilliant to me.”

She parks one hand on her hip then gets going, and I remember what a powerhouse debater she was in college. “Maybe if you’d suggested we get a cat, that might feel a little more normal. But this is twenty steps ahead of where we are. We need time. We need to keep getting to know each other.”

“But I thought you wanted—”

“Wait. Let me guess. You thought I wanted you to fix the past? You thought I wanted you to slap a Band-Aid on ‘It’s too hard to juggle classes and you’?”

“But you said ‘don’t let me go’ when we were having sex.” My voice rises, too, as we’re firing back and forth at each other. Because I also have a fucking point to make.

She holds out her hands like she’s making an impassioned plea. “I meant ‘don’t let me go’ as in ‘keep me around. Be with me.’ I didn’t mean ask me to marry you after barely one week of dating.”

I raise an eyebrow, trying to get to the bottom of where I went so wrong. “Is this because of your intimacy challenges? Because it’s hard for you to trust?”

Her eyes brim with fire. “No,” she hisses. “It’s because you’re doing it for the wrong reasons.”

I fold my arms over my chest. “What the hell? I thought this was what you wanted.”

Her tone softens as she speaks. “What I wanted was a new chance to do this right with you. Not to blindly jump off a cliff to prove getting back together makes sense. It already made sense to me an hour ago.” She drags a hand through her hair and sighs heavily.

“And now?” I ask, my stomach plummeting like an airplane that’s shot down.

“I don’t honestly know what makes sense.” She peers at the clock. “I should go.”

I suppose what seems to make the most sense to her is leaving. Since that’s what she does next.