Both smiles were—not fake, exactly—but weary.
Warning bells rang faintly in the back of Jill’s mind, but she seemed to lack the energy to get really, truly worried.
The arrival of room service stalled what was happening—or not happening—between her and Tom.
“Roast beef sandwich, or roast chicken?” Tom asked, pulling the silver lids off both plates.
She shrugged, pulling a fry off the plate with the sandwich and halfheartedly chewing it.
Objectively she knew she was hungry, but the faintest flicker of butterflies in her stomach made both food options look unappealing.
“You pick,” she said.
He nodded, but despite his earlier claims of hunger, didn’t seem in a rush for either plate.
The mood wasn’t awkward so much as… expectant. Like the calm before a storm you’ve always known was coming.
Jill sat on the bed, looking across the room at Tom as he leaned against the small hotel desk. His long legs were stretched out in front of him, crossed at the ankle. He was still in his suit—always in a suit—although he’d ditched the tie.
But there were tension lines around his eyes and mouth. His knuckles were white where they gripped the desk.
Jill opened her mouth, wondering what she could say to make this all go away.
In the end, she didn’t have to. He spoke first.
“Whatever it is, you can just say it.”
Jill was suddenly really glad she hadn’t eaten more than the single French fry.
The gentle butterflies in her stomach turned into bats. Big ones.
“Tom—”
He blew out a long breath. “You don’t want to marry me, do you?”
She could only stare at him.
He smiled gently. “I’m not asking if you care about me. I’m not asking if you think I’m a great guy. I’m not even asking whether or not you think I’d be a great husband. I’m asking whether you want to marry me.”
She pushed her plate aside. “I do care about you. And I think we’d have a pretty damn content marriage. But I want more than that. Don’t you?”
He blew out a long breath and dipped his head.
“Yes. Yes, I do want more,” he replied softly.
Tom blew out a laugh and then dipped his head forward, staring at his hands clasped between his legs.
She scooted to sit beside him. “Are you mad?”
“Mad.” He stared at his hands for a while. “You know, I’m not? Embarrassed, maybe. But not mad. Not even hurt. And I guess that says it all right there, huh?”
She smiled sadly. “Maybe.”
“I think maybe I always knew it wasn’t right, but I kept trying…”
“Me too,” she said.
They were both silent for several seconds, and then Jill let out a little laugh at the absurdity of it all and flopped back on the bed.
“Do you get the sense we’re getting off way too easy here?” she asked. “We’re calling off a wedding.”
He leaned back so he was lying beside her, both of them on their backs, shoulders nearly touching, feet dangling off the end of a random hotel bed.
“True. Although, not gonna lie, right now my imagination is playing over scenarios in which you tell me you changed your mind.”
“Oh yeah?” She turned her head to look at him. “What do I sound like in your head?”
His voice pitched up several octaves. “Tom, noo, I was so wrong, Tom, my dearest beloved…”
Jill cracked up. “That’s terrible.”
He grinned. “Am I close?”
She rolled toward him, tucking her arm beneath her head. “Can I ask you something?”
“Only if I get to ask you something after.”
“Deal.” She took a deep breath. “Why did you propose? We barely knew each other—”
Tom stared up at the ceiling for several seconds. “It’s going to sound awful.”
“Try me.”
Tom blew out a long breath. “You have… you have this light. No, more like you are light. And when I saw you sitting across the bar that first day… well let’s just say it was very moth-to-flame.”
“Romantic,” she said teasingly. “But that explains why you approached me, not why you asked me out again, and again, and then proposed.”
He turned his head to look at her, seeming to search her face. There was fondness on his face, but no passion—had there ever been passion?
Did she care?
“It took me all of a week to realize that that light I saw in you? It was love. You have so much damn love to give, and I… I wanted some of it.”
Jill’s mouth parted in surprise. “Everyone has love to give.”
“Sure. But you have it in spades,” he said, his finger running along her nose. “And I think that’s why you said yes. Because that love was ready to burst out of you, and you needed to give it away.”
Jill stared at him. Was he right?
It felt… right. Sometimes she did feel like she was going to explode with… something.
“I guess you just answered your question,” she said lightly. “Why I said yes.”
Tom shook his head. “That’s not what I was going to ask.”
“No?”
He rolled onto his back, linking his hands behind his head. “I was going to ask what’s going on with you and Vincent Moretti. I mean, really.”