He leaned forward once again. “Don’t be ridiculous. I was just surprised.”
“Why?”
“I don’t know. You’ve never mentioned your parents.”
“Neither have you. And you haven’t asked,” I pointed out.
He ran a hand through his hair, glancing to the right, his eyes meeting with Dorothy Riepenhoff, who raised her eyebrows at him as if waiting for his response. He glanced from her to me, his eyes imperceptibly squinting as if to question her invasion. I hid a smile behind a gulp of tea. He was the one who wanted to visit Quincy.
“Plus, you love me. So you can’t really run now,” I offered, watching his eyes flip to mine. There. I brought it up. Before we even left the restaurant. Pretty good for a girl who’d recently accused herself of being afraid of commitment.
His mouth twitched. “What a sad soul I’d make, hopelessly lost in unrequited love, tied to a girl with a police chief father.”
I tilted my head and took another sip, hiding behind the clouded glass. “It may be reciprocated,” I mumbled.
“What’s that?” His hand gently pushed the glass away.
“Maybe. Maybe I do have feelings for you.”
“Maybe,” he repeated. “Maybe you love me?”
“Yes. Kinda.”
“You can’t kinda love someone.”
“No?” I returned the glass to my mouth for a conversation-stalling sip.
“No. I won’t allow it.” He stood, placing both hands on the table and leaned forward, across the space. Next to him, Dorothy stared at us and clapped excitedly like she was about to win something. “Say it, Riley Johnson, and I’ll march down to the precinct right now and let your dad take a pint of my blood.”
I stood and leaned forward, our mouths whispers away from each other. “Bold words, Mr. Jacobs.”
“I got a whole town of men to fight through.” He grinned. “Say it and let me kiss you.”
Love. Was I ready to say it? How could I not? Wasn’t love what I had been feeling? The breathless high, the tug at my heart, the obsessive want for more of him, all the time, as much as I could get? Wasn’t love the yearn I felt when our phone calls ended, the need I felt as soon as he touched me, the crack of my barriers every time he smiled?
It was, it had to be, and I didn’t stop the words; they flowed like blood, scary and exhilarating all at the same time. “I love you.”
Then, there, in Beverly’s diner, he grabbed the back of my head, claimed my mouth with his kiss, and the restaurant erupted in cheers.
It was a Hollywood moment, one that would make its way down every dirt road in Quincy that night.