“How do you feel about that?”
I like that he asks me this even though he already knows how I feel, as if he knows I need to practice letting all this stuff out rather than bottling it like before. “I’m conflicted. Hopeful. Nervous. Wary. I keep waiting for the other shoe to drop. Or, maybe since they’ve already dropped, my mother to simply chuck them off a balcony.”
He smiles wryly. “If it’s any consolation, I’ve felt her remorse over the relationship you two have.”
Remorse I share, for as much as I wanted a relationship with her, I never really pushed for one, either.
I sneak another piece of dried spaghetti. “Callie likes Will, you know.”
He chuckles as he checks on the bread in the oven. “I thought we were talking about your mom.”
“We’re talking about Will and Callie now. Kellan told me before that Will’s attracted to Cal, too. Is this true?”
“Have you asked him about it?”
“Gods, yes. He told me to mind my own business.”
Jonah chuckles again before leaning over to kiss me. “Yes. He’s attracted to her. That said, he wouldn’t act upon it until whatever it is he has with Becca is resolved. He feels really conflicted about all of this. Guilty, I guess.”
It’s as I figured. Now that Jonah’s brought up the importance of resolutions, that leads me to . . . “I’ve been thinking.”
“Uh oh.” He looks up from dumping cooked pasta into a colander in the sink. “I hope you’re not planning on matchmaking. I can tell you right now that both Will and Callie are the sort to like to figure this stuff out on their own.”
My lips curve upwards; I can’t stop sighing over how adorable he is when he does mundane things like cooking. Maybe adorable isn’t the right word; maybe gorgeous is, in an unaffected, obvious way. He’s wearing an old, thin red t-shirt and well-loved jeans that hug his lean runner’s muscles in all the right places, but the effect the sight of him on me is the same as if he’d been standing before me in a pristine tuxedo.
Or in nothing at all.
“You were saying? Or rather, thinking?”
I force my eyes back up to his face. He’s amused, no doubt by the equal parts of nervousness and desire raging around my body. “Oh. Right. I was thinking—”
Wait. Can I do this? Just ask? Just . . . say it? Let him know what’s been on my mind for days now?
We’ve travelled this road before, were engaged for over a year, only for me to cry off not once, but twice. Okay, to be fair, he’d postponed once himself. Those postponements, upon reflection, had been for the best. The state of mind I’d been in, the confusion and despair . . . despite our Connection, we would’ve been doomed to unhappiness.
Things are different now. I’m sure now. Even though I love his brother, and that’ll never change—I’m sure.
So I take a deep breath and count to ten to give myself enough time to change my mind. But I don’t. If anything, each second makes me want this all the more. “Will you marry me?”
It’s clearly not what he was expecting, because he goes very still, steam coming up from the hot noodles in the colander in his hands. For the tiniest moment, I wonder if I’ve just made yet another colossal mistake when it comes to us as a couple—we’re in a good place, and I don’t want to do anything to threaten that between us, but on the other hand, I can’t very well pretend that this isn’t what I want. So, no. No matter what, this isn’t a mistake. This is my truth, and I’ve got to put it out there whether or not it goes south for me.