The Hot One

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.





26





Delaney



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I curse silently once more, alone in the restroom at Nirvana. I clench my fists, stomp my feet, and shake my head. I’ve got to get this morning out of my system. I have work to do. Massages to give. Clients to take care of.

I take a deep, calming breath, then I bring my palms together in front of my chest and ask the universe to grant me peace right now.

Or at least for the next sixty minutes, since my client Violet waits for me in the Rainfall Room.

As I exit the bathroom, I tell myself I’m leaving Tyler in a trail of dust behind me. I won’t think about his absolutely absurd proposal. I won’t devote a moment’s thought to the utter insanity of him thinking we should get married so freaking soon. And I won’t let my mind get caught up in second-and third-guessing our fight.

I shudder.

That word.

Fight.

We fought like two bitter people. Like my parents. The thought sickens me. I hate fighting. I detest it. It’s not who I want to be. I should have done better this morning. Should have been calmer.

With my chin up, I head into the massage room. Violet is in position, her raven hair spilling over her left shoulder, freeing her right one for some serious deep tissue work.

“Hey, Vi. How’s it going?”

She raises her face from the face rest and smiles. “I was a good girl. No iPad in bed for the last two weeks.”

I pat her shoulder. “I’m so proud of you. That’s great news.”

“I broke the habit,” she says, as she resumes her position. “Like you told me to.”

I drizzle some lavender massage oil on my palm and begin working on her shoulder. “Vi,” I whisper, astonished.

“What is it?”

“I can tell. You aren’t as knotted and tight.”

“See? I’ve behaved.”

I beam, and this is how I get Tyler out of my head. I focus on work, clients, and healing. This is the antidote to my morning. But even though we fought, my reaction was totally reasonable, wasn’t it? A proposal the morning after we sleep together is crazypants.

Oh shit.

I’m lingering on him again.