CHAPTER ELEVEN
After Keeley gave Britta her more than two cents, my angel takes an interest in wine—about three quarters of a bottle. She’s always been a Pinot Noir drinker. The fact that she downs that much rosé of dubious distinction tells me she’s confused and distressed.
I’m sorry I’ve backed her in a corner. But she’s never going to come out unless I push her out. I wish things between us were simpler, that I could just wrap her in my arms, tell her I love her, and that she would believe me and openly love me back.
Those days are long gone.
Rob and Alania take off. They’re late for dinner with her family. As they walk out, a guy schleps in with a bunch of equipment and starts setting it up in the corner. One look tells me it’s a karaoke machine. I should have guessed that Maxon would bring Keeley someplace she could sing.
I turn to her. “You planning to sing at Gus’s sports bar again?”
“Maybe.” She shrugs. “I’m mostly hoping to sing for weekend entertainment once Maxon and I get moved into our new house and open officially as an awesome bed-and-breakfast. I’ve already got a spot for the yoga, and I’m working on recipes that use locally sourced food. You and Britta should come try a couples’ meditation session. I’ve got a great spot.”
Her little smile tells me Keeley is up to something. When she’s got a scheme, she’s a danger to be avoided at all costs.
That’s my cue to leave.
“Angel…” I turn to Britta and put my arm around her. “You ready to go?”
“I’m finishing this glass.” She drags her wine closer. “How else am I going to put up with you all evening?”
I ignore her jibe and the resulting pain. “We need to pick up Jamie in the next thirty minutes.”
She looks at her watch, then blinks, panic tightening her face. “Is that really the time?”
I see the instant Britta realizes she’s had too much to drink and can’t drive.
“It’s okay,” I assure her. “I’m fine. Maxon can park your car at the office. We’ll pick it up tomorrow.”
That suggestion upsets her even more.
She covers her face with her hands. “I’m never irresponsible. Oh, my god…. What’s wrong with me?”
I’ve rattled her, and she’s seeking temporary escape, a release of her pressure valve. I have a better suggestion than booze, but I don’t think she’s currently in any shape to talk about sharing incendiary orgasms that will have her letting go of all her anger and unshed tears.
“Nothing’s wrong with you. It’s been a rough few days. I know.” Just like I know I should have insisted she eat more than a pot sticker and a lettuce wrap before imbibing. I shove my half-empty beer away and stand. “I’ve got this. Let me take you home.”
“You’re really leaving now?” Keeley asks, looking a little bummed.
I rise and lean in to whisper in her ear. “I know you want Britta and me to have a happily ever after now, but FYI, she’s not ready. We have a lot to work through, and I have to get started.”
The clock is ticking against me.
“Have you made it through the CD I gave you?”
I know she spent a lot of time and energy to give it to me. “Not yet. I’m, um…taking it in small doses.”
“Like Britta, you weren’t totally ready, either. When you are, it’s waiting.” She kisses my cheek. “Now go.”
When I look around, Maxon is helping Britta to her feet and giving her a hug and some speech of encouragement that ends with a brotherly pat on the shoulder. Keeley hands Britta her purse, and my angel stares at Maxon’s fiancée as if she’s not sure what to say. Finally, Keeley ends the awkward stare-down by grabbing Britta up in a hug.
“We’re going to be friends, and I’m always going to be here for you. Maxon will give me your number, and I will call you soon.”
“You’re on Griff’s side,” she says. “So don’t bother.”
“I’m on love’s side. Tonight…just remember that he wants what’s best for all of you.”
“If you think he doesn’t have some control-freak vendetta—”
“He doesn’t.” Keeley shakes her head. “You won’t see it until you stop being angry and afraid. He hurt you, and you’re entitled to your feelings. But he’s moved heaven and earth to give you a choice. You can either unleash everything you’ve kept bottled up inside on him or you can genuinely see if it’s possible you two can make each other happy for the rest of your lives. You have to decide if you want to hate or are ready to love again.” She squeezes Britta’s hand. “Oh, and make sure you have a bottle of water and two ibuprofen before you go to bed.”
“Thanks.” I maneuver Britta behind me. I don’t think she’s in the mood to hear more wisdom just now.
After a manly chest bump with my brother, I wrap an arm around Britta’s waist and escort her to my SUV. We’re absolutely silent as we approach Jamie’s daycare.
Ten minutes later, he’s in my arms, looking happy—especially when I bring up pizza. I dial one of my favorite delivery places for those rare times I indulge in a pie. I know what Britta likes, so I make sure she’ll be happy. Jamie gets a kid’s cheese pizza all to himself. It will be delivered in an hour. When I give the restaurant the address, Britta is staring at me with a gaping jaw and wide eyes.
“You’re taking us to the Stowe estate?” she asks the moment I hang up.
She might be tipsy but her brain still works.
“Yes. We’re staying there until the end of our arrangement.” I explain the estate’s need for a caretaker. She already knows how I feel about staying at her house.
“There’s so much water… The pools. The ocean! Jamie…”
“Shh… I’m a step ahead. You don’t honestly think I would do anything to put our son at risk, do you?” I raise a brow at her. “I ordered a baby gate for the top and bottom of the stairs. We can put his toys in the spare room and keep him contained there with knob guards. He won’t be able to wander out unless we open the door. The rest of the time, he’ll be asleep or with us. If that’s not enough, tell me what else we need to keep him safe. I’ll take care of it.”
Britta falls silent as we head to the property. “Why are you doing this? Really?”
I know she’s not asking me why I want to protect Jamie. “Because I love you.”
She clenches her jaw. “You love me so much you’re going to force me to live with you?”
“I love you so much I’m willing to do whatever it takes to help you past your hurt, including taking your anger, which I fully realize I deserve, until you see that we belong together.”
With a sigh, she clasps her hands in her lap. “You confuse me.”
I don’t think she’d be admitting that weakness if she hadn’t consumed wine, but her honesty is more helpful than her blame.
“How? I’ve been very straightforward. The trouble isn’t that you don’t understand me; it’s that you don’t believe me. So this is me, trying to change your mind.”
Britta doesn’t speak again until we reach the house, but I can feel her thoughts turning. I wonder exactly what she’s thinking, but I also know better than to force her to talk before she’s ready. She’s quiet, my angel. She often has to think alone, sometimes reflecting for days, before she’s ready to reply.
By the time I pull all the suitcases and boxes of Jamie’s necessities from the back of my SUV and stack them in the foyer, the doorbell is ringing. I collect the hot pizza boxes and drinks, then pay the delivery boy. Less than two minutes later, we’re sitting down to gooey goodness at the breakfast bar in the rustic Hawaiian kitchen overlooking the peaceful tide of the blue ocean. I’m glad Britta included Jamie’s booster seat in her packing so we can make it through this meal with relative ease.
His playpen will come in handy later, too.
Britta picks at her food, mostly fussing over Jamie. I take over coaxing the little guy to eat when it looks as if she’s consumed less than a slice.
After he’s chowed down half of his kid’s plate and starts pushing at the counter, I clean him up and lift him into my arms.
“I’ll give him a bath.” Britta rises and grabs her plate, heading for the sink.
I grab her wrist and nudge her toward her chair. “Sit. Finish. I’ll bathe him. After that, we’ll set up his playpen so he can go to bed. Then you and I will talk.”
She looks pointedly at her stool, silently refusing to sit again. “I’m tired of you telling me what to do.”
“Then stop balking every time I try to lighten your load or meet you halfway.”
I’m not going to stand here and argue. First, it’s late for Jamie, and he’s beginning to yawn and fuss. Second, I think I’m getting to her. She’s being argumentative, picking fights, looking for faults…like she’s trying to stay mad at me. Like she knows she’s teetering on the edge of believing in me again.
Or like I’m thinking really fucking wishfully.
Right now, I’m pretty sure the score is me two, Makaio zero. Yeah, Britta might want to subtract a point from my total because I’ve twisted her arm, but I have to think that’s less of a deduction than her groom telling her that his mommy is going to plan their wedding. So really, the banker is in negative territory, right? I should be good.
But I’m not taking anything for granted.
So I’ve got one more trick up my sleeve…
After I bathe my boy and find some pajamas in one of his suitcases, I unravel the mystery that is his playpen and set it up in the room adjacent to the master suite. Britta packed away his night-light, so I plug it in before I retrieve his favorite blanket. Then I rock him a little until his eyes droop.
“Hey, big boy. You ready for bed?”
I’m aware that Britta has wandered up the stairs and followed the sound of our voices. She now pauses just inside the doorway of the sitting room. I feel her eyes on me as I cradle Jamie and coo to him.
“No,” he whines as he rubs his eyes again. “I not tired.”
I try not to laugh. He’s obviously exhausted, and it’s already past his bedtime.
“Yes,” I say firmly, kissing his forehead. “You are. Come on.”
With a frown, he touches my cheek. His big eyes and a curious expression tell me he’s trying to figure me out. “Daddy.”
My heart stops. I blink at my son, hardly daring to move. Then I risk a glance at Britta, who’s gaping at us in stunned silence. A resounding yes is on the tip of my tongue. It’s one thing to push her to look past her resentment to see what’s in her heart. But it’s another to force her to allow Jamie to acknowledge me before we’ve both agreed the time is right.
“What do you want to do here, angel?”
She bursts into tears—something else I don’t think would occur if wine hadn’t happened tonight. “God, it’s like you’re a force of nature and I can’t stop you. You invade every area of my life and wreak havoc—”
“I intend to put us back together,” I swear. “You just have to let me.”
I’m stunned that I’m getting choked up, too. I don’t know whether it’s because the three of us are finally under one roof together like a family or because it’s so gratifying to think that, on some level, my own son recognizes me. You know what? I don’t know why. I don’t care why. Despite what my dad has preached my whole life, emotions don’t always make a man weak. The flow of them makes the whole family unit stronger.
In this case, they’re giving me the fortitude to push ahead when I’m sure a lot of people would tell me to back the hell off, so I refuse to judge myself now. I’m rolling toward our future.
With her body racking and her eyes leaking, she slowly approaches us, smoothing Jamie’s hair from his face. “Yes, baby. He’s your daddy.” Then she looks at me. “Don’t push me anymore tonight.”
I hug him tight, kiss his forehead, and revel in a long second of bliss that my son knows the truth, that he’ll call me Daddy for the rest of his life.
But as I hear Britta pace, I realize I can’t let fear, resentment, or anger fester between us—or I’ll lose her. “I didn’t suggest to him that I’m his father or coach him to call me that.”
She turns to me, frowning as if she’s trying to hold herself together. I know this is a sensitive topic. And wine makes her emotions float closer to the surface. Always has.
Maybe that works in my favor tonight.
“The pediatrician told me it wasn’t uncommon for kids without a steady father figure to start looking for one at some point. But until tonight, he’s never done it. It blindsided me. I know in my heart this is both inevitable and best for Jamie. I just…” Britta doesn’t finish her sentence, simply turns away.
I need to go after her. I need to figure out how to soothe her pain.
My first solution to make her feel good is sex…but that’s easy. It’s not going to fix a situation this complicated. I have to really use everything I’ve learned over the last couple of years and talk to her. I have to listen and try to say the right things.
I’ve never been great at that, but the stakes are too high to fuck up now.
“Good night, son,” I murmur to Jamie as I lay him in the playpen.
“Daddy,” he gurgles again as I hand him a stuffed bear.
“I’ll see you in the morning. I love you.” I kiss his head again.
As I slip out, I flip off the lights and leave the door cracked so Jamie isn’t afraid in his new surroundings. Thankfully, he doesn’t make a sound other than a sigh as he slides into sleep.
When I turn, Britta is on the lanai attached to the bedroom, looking out over the inky ocean and the silvery moon playing peekaboo with the clouds.
“I’m sorry you weren’t ready for that,” I say softly behind her, resisting the urge to touch her, offer her comfort.
She shakes her head. “I tell myself that I’m worried you’ll crush Jamie if you walk away again. But I realize it’s all wrapped up in my bigger anxiety. How do I simply trust you again? You can’t fathom what you’re asking of me. What—”
“Yeah, I can. You saved your virginity for the man you’d marry, and you thought that was me. I admit I seduced you. I admit that I wasn’t a great boyfriend. But it was lack of skills, not lack of feeling. I loved you then. I love you now. I know that’s hard to believe after everything I put you through, but I wish you’d try, angel.”
“I’m in a terrible position. Everywhere I turn you’re there, in my face, against my body, trying to barge your way back into my life. Memories I haven’t thought of in years come out of nowhere to slap me.” She breaks into sobs. “Makaio wanted me this weekend. I kept thinking about the first time you and I…” She shakes her head, tears now streaming. “And I couldn’t.”
The guttural, primal part of me wants to throw a party. She turned down sex with her fiancé because I barged into her thoughts—and crowded him out of her heart. She didn’t admit that in so many words, but I feel it. I’m closer to breaking through than I even knew. Little by little, all my assurances have been wearing down her resistance. She just needs a few more signs, more proof that I’m here for her and I’m always going to be here for her.
On the other hand, I hate to see her so torn. Every moment of weeping she stifles into suffering silence is a blade to my heart. I’m furious that I have to finish ripping her apart before I can put us back together.
I grab Britta and fold her into my arms, soothing her with a hand down her back and a whisper in her ear. “It’s okay.”
“It’s not! I’m engaged to another man but I’m letting the one who broke my heart comfort me because it feels confusingly right. I can’t do that. I can’t give you the power to hurt me again.”
“I never will. That promise isn’t just words I’ve strung together. I am determined to make you happy. I am committed to it. I know when I left it fucking hurt. And I know because I didn’t just break your heart. I broke my own. Everything Keeley said tonight was true. I was a mess. I could have used a good therapist, sure. But I desperately needed a friend. I looked everywhere for something close to what you and I shared. In every bar, on every beach, on every app meant to facilitate a quick hookup.”
She wrenches out of my embrace, and I let her. “I don’t want to hear how many girls you fucked, Griffin Reed. I don’t!” Her face looks crestfallen, her eyes so sad. “But I can do math. Now you want me to believe that you missed me so much that you had sex with hundreds of women while we were apart? How is that supposed to convince me that you loved me?”
“I don’t know the exact number. I didn’t keep track.” But her estimate sounds about right. “I tried to replicate the way you made me feel. And this will sound totally messed up, but it should tell you that I never could replace you because—I realize now—you’re everything to me.”
Britta wraps her arms around herself and mulls my words over. “It does sound messed up. As much as I hate you for it and want to call you a liar, I can’t. Because I tried some of that, too.” She swallowed. “After making love with you, being with someone I didn’t care about at all was one of the most terrible, hollow emotions I’ve ever inflicted on myself.”
Her admission opens a fresh wound in my chest. I don’t think for one minute that she’s talking about her relationship with Makaio. And the last thing I want to hear about is Britta in bed with yet another guy. But I have to know that she actually understands. We both have to purge the past.
“What happened?”
She shoots me a sharp glance, then shakes her head. “The details aren’t important.”
“I don’t need who, when, and where. Tell me what it felt like when someone else touched you.”
“The first time?” She looks hesitant.
Of course there was more than one time, more than one man. We were apart for three years. I stupidly threw myself into the singles’ cesspool about three weeks after our split and stroked all through the waters until I finally crawled out sixteen days ago. Britta is far more cautious. She would have waited, maybe hoped we could patch it back together. I wonder what made her finally decide to give up on me.
“Yeah.” We can start there. If she needs to talk more, we will. I will attempt to suppress my homicidal urges.
“The night I received the naked pictures of you and Tiffanii, I went to some bar on Front Street. I don’t even remember which one. I drank a lot, so I don’t recall his name, either. He listened to me talk about our breakup for a few minutes, then asked me if I wanted to have sex. I said yes.”
I close my eyes and try not to feel betrayed because I have no right. No, I try not to feel as if her words ripped my heart from my chest and squeezed out the blood with her bare hands. She had sex with someone else even before I did. “Why? Because you were angry?”
“Furious,” she admits softly. “I wanted to hurt you. Not that you even knew when it happened, but I just… I don’t know. I kept seeing the snapshots of you and that plastic bitch together. I know you’ve said you didn’t voluntarily sleep with her—at least then. I can believe she rigged the scene since she was always jealous of what we had, enjoyed stirring up drama, and had no conscience. But that night, I didn’t want to feel like the naive virgin you’d taken advantage of anymore. I didn’t want to stand still like the clingy ex-girlfriend who couldn’t move on. Maybe I needed to prove to myself that I’d be all right without you. I’m not sure anymore. I just know that, when it was over, I went to his bathroom and threw up. Then I gave him a fake number and cried all the way back to our apartment.”
I clench my fists, but if I’m going to lash out at something or someone, it should be myself. In a lot of ways, I did this to her. I forced her to confront the future without me when she was reeling and enraged and fucking lost.
“It hurt you,” I croon in a soft voice that’s somehow a small consolation to me, too.
“Yes. I couldn’t sleep in our bed, so I sat up all night, waiting for you to storm back in, seething about what I’d done. To demand that I give you back the body that belonged to you because you’d always been so possessive. But hour after hour passed without anything except silence and regret. That’s when I knew you were never coming back.” Tears fill her eyes and spill again in a stream of sorrow. “I found out I was pregnant a week later. Once Jamie was born, I dated a little off and on. Sometimes, I’d sleep with someone to see if I was finally over you. But no… I went from feeling sick and stupid to being frozen and empty.”
I understand. Most of my life, I’ve slept with women I didn’t have an ounce of feeling for. That’s how my old man taught me it was done. That’s what life reinforced. I never really knew anything else existed—until Britta.
She shrugs. “Either way, I felt deeply alone. And god, I need to shut up. I’m giving you so many weapons to use against me. You’re probably thinking gleefully about how sentimental and stupid I am and—”
“No. Never.” I finally risk cupping her face. “I’m thinking about how I would do anything to change that week of our lives. But I can’t. I can only ask for your forgiveness.”
“I think I’ve forgiven you.” She finally looks right at me, our gazes connecting in a snap I feel all the way to my toes. “I simply don’t know if I can forget.”
I want to kiss her. Right now. I want to imprint myself on her, show her exactly how I feel in a way I’m good at—certainly better than speaking a bunch of words. If I could show her the difference between the guy who randomly picked up women in a bar and gave them a good time because it temporarily masked how crappy I felt about myself versus the man standing in front of her desperate for the chance to make her mine because I love her, maybe she would understand.
I lower my head, inching so, so slowly toward her lips. She sees me coming, grabs my biceps, holds her breath. I feel her body tense. I dip closer. Her eyes slide shut.
Jesus, my heart is going to gallop out of my chest. We’ve made so much damn progress tonight. It must be a sign that she’s working through her scars. Maybe, deep down, she even wants me back. I’m excited. I have hope. I’m—
“No.” She steps back, shaking her head. She worries her engagement ring on her finger. “I’m committed to someone else. You and I have chemistry. I won’t deny that. Some part of my heart still belongs to you because you were my first love. That part will probably always belong to you. But I’ve moved on, made different choices. You seem to want some fairy tale out of our time together. Griff, you’re not Prince Charming, and you weren’t around to rescue me from the tower, so I found my own way out.”
Britta turns her back to me and heads into the house once more. Dismissing me.
“Makaio isn’t going to make you happy,” I call after her, following with soft footsteps. “He can’t.”
She stops, glances at me over her shoulder. I hover right behind her, absorbing the heat of her body as the tropical breeze kicks up. In those silent moments, I sense her hesitation. I smell her. I want her.
I’m not giving up until I have her again.
She whirls on me and backs a step away. “And you think you can?
“Yes.”
“I don’t need that crazy, consuming, dizzying sort of ‘love’ again. He respects me. We don’t argue. We’re looking for the same things in life.”
I scoff. “Logic isn’t going to fulfill you, angel. He doesn’t love you. He doesn’t challenge you. And he damn well doesn’t excite you.”
She presses her lips together and crosses her arms. But she doesn’t say anything. She doesn’t refute me.
“Tell me I’m wrong,” I invite her. Fuck that, I goad her.
“Leave me alone.”
“I’m not going to do that.” Ever.
“Go to hell.”
“I’ve been in hell for the last three years. Now that I’m with you again, I’m staying right here. You’ll figure that out sooner or later.”
“I prefer Makaio. He gives me space.”
She’s lying to herself.
I shake my head. “He doesn’t care enough to do whatever it takes to earn your heart. He didn’t take care of you when you were sick, and he doesn’t give a damn that you have the perfect fucking dream wedding in mind. You’re only marrying him because you think he’s safe. Because you think he’ll never leave you. Because he doesn’t know or care that you’ll never give him the power to hurt you. I won’t make you admit that out loud, but you know I’m right.”
She sighs. Her shoulders droop. “If I gave you what you wanted right now… If I said, ‘You know, Griff, you’re totally right. Let’s get back together,’ you’d be bored in under a month.”
“No.”
“You’d be sneaking away to add notches on your bedpost in less than six weeks,” she goes on as if I didn’t refute her.
I grit my teeth. “Hell no.”
“You would. And you’d be gone from my life—and Jamie’s—again in…three, maybe four months. What’s the point? Am I your ultimate challenge? Does your ego need to see if you can win me back so you can dump me again?”
“Fuck no!”
I shouldn’t touch her at all, not now, not when I’m worked up and she’s feeling defensive. Cupping her shoulders certainly doesn’t satisfy my need to have her next to me, under me, filled with me. But I want her used to my hands on her skin. I’m willing to start slow. I’m going to work a little more each day to erase the feel of every other man from her memory.
“Yes,” she refutes. “You don’t want to see that. Maybe you need to believe you’ve changed so you can live with yourself. Maybe you’re looking for meaning or redemption or… I don’t even know. Maybe you hit thirty last November and started to think about how sad it is to be unmarried and decided you should settle for the woman who once dreamed naively of the day you would commit and set up house and take meaningless vows—”
“None of that. Fucking son of a bitch. Haven’t you been listening to a word I’ve goddamn said since I walked back into your life? I. Love. You. And if I was lying to myself about anything in the past, it was that. By burying that truth, I didn’t have to admit that I was wrong or that I’d screwed up or that my loneliness was something I completely deserved. It would have been really easy to keep rolling along in life and blaming you for breaking faith first by stabbing me with Maxon’s secret deal. I have plenty of reasons to know exactly how cutthroat women can be when it comes to money and power and…” I realize what I’m about to admit. It’s actually on the tip of my tongue. But if Britta is horrified with me now, she’ll be completely revolted by my dirty secret. “Whatever.”
“Not whatever. Tell me,” she demands. “What did I ever do to you but give you my devotion and believe in you?”
“We’re not solving anything at this point. I’m done.” I shoulder my way past her and stomp through the bedroom, heading for the stairs to find my suitcase in the foyer.
Britta marches after me. “See? That’s just like you, giving up. Walking out. Thanks for proving my point, asshole.”
God, she’s pushing me. And pushing harder than I ever expected. On the one hand, it’s a good sign. She’d be happy for my reprieve if she didn’t care. On the other hand, I’m beginning to understand how she feels, why she’s overwhelmed by what’s going on between us.
“I’m not walking out. Get it through your stubborn head, I will never do that again. I’m stopping a destructive argument. I’m making sure we don’t say awful things to each other, like we did the day we ended. I regret calling you a bitch. I regret letting you go, not being there for you and Jamie. Hell, I regret everything I’ve done in the last three years except the things I’ve done since I came to your engagement party.”
I grab my suitcase. I spot her bag, too, and lift it by the handle, then lug them both upstairs.
“Where are you going?” She follows behind me.
“To our bedroom.”
“Our…” She huffs. “What? No! You’re out of your mind.”
“I might be, but there is one bedroom on this side of the house beside Jamie. I haven’t been there for my son since the day he was born, and I’ll be goddamned if I’m not going to be here for him now. So I’m sleeping in the room closest to him. If you want another bedroom, it will have to be on the other side of the floor.” I drop her suitcase at her feet. “You pick. I’m going to bed.”
As I head to the master, I catch her grabbing her bag and chasing after me. “I’m not leaving my son without his mother.”
“Then it looks like we’re both sleeping there.” I point at the king-size bed with the tropical white-and-blue comforter and the dozen pillows that make it look soft and inviting and luxuriously romantic.
“Don’t pretend this is strictly about Jamie.”
You know, she’s right. Bullshit isn’t my style. “It’s not. But that doesn’t change anything I’ve said. This is where I’m sleeping. How about you?”
“You manipulative bastard. You’ve cornered me again. So, of course, you win. Again. I’m sure that makes your ego feel all big and bloated.”
“This isn’t fucking about my ego.”
“No matter what you say, everything is about your ego at some point, even winning me back.” She rolls her eyes and heads to the bathroom. “I don’t care. It won’t be the first time we’ve shared a bed. Just stay on your side and don’t touch me.”
Now I’m just pissed. Or riled. Or frustrated. I’m not thinking, just reacting.
I drop my suitcase and snag her again, pulling her body against mine with a hand splayed at the small of her back. I dig my fist into her hair and force her to look at me. “I won’t lay a finger on you until you admit you want me. Until you admit I’m the only man for you. Until you ask me.”
“You’re going to be waiting for the rest of your life.”