“All I want is you,” I whispered. “But I understand your fear. I was scared too. I thought I could ration my feelings the way I usually did.”
“Like truffles?”
I smiled. “Like truffles. But it didn’t work. Every day we were together I just fell deeper and deeper.”
“I did too,” he said. “I was a wreck when we got home from New York.”
“Same! Even in New York—that day I tried on the dress.” I shook my head. “I knew it wasn’t just a dress, no matter what you said.”
“You were right.”
“And the ring.” I looked down at my hand, at the band circling my finger. “You gave me a real ring.”
“I wanted to buy you all the real things, because my feelings were real. But it was easier to spend money than to admit them.”
“Let’s make a promise that we’ll be honest with each other from now on.”
“Deal.”
“Is this where I can tell you I love you too?”
He smiled. “Sure.”
“I love you too—everything about you. What you see as flaws and idiosyncrasies are what make you different and special. I’m not perfect either,” I said with a laugh. “I’ll probably always cut my hair when I’m stressed, never walk right in high heels, and continue to blurt random things when I’m nervous.”
“I might think you were the wrong girl if you didn’t.”
“And I know that you might not always be in touch with your earthy bull feelings, but I promise to be patient and not snatch them back into my little crab shell.”
“Good.” He leaned forward and kissed me. “Because there’s only one crab for me.”
“So what happened that made you realize all this?”
He laughed. “My sister. Turns out, she knew the engagement was bullshit, but she didn’t say anything, because she thought it was just how we were working up the nerve to admit how we felt for real.”
I gasped. “Just like Millie!”
“She saw me wrestling with my feelings and pretty much told me I had to get over myself or let you go.” He shook his head. “Letting you go was not an option. So here we are.”
“Here we are.” I smiled and glanced around. “How are we here, anyway?”
“Turns out, one of the Prancin’ Grannies is the boss here.”
“Gladys?”
“Gladys.” He shrugged. “Also I made a very large donation to the Friends of the Public Library Foundation.”
I laughed. “Will there be a Hutton French wing sometime next year?”
“Possibly.” He took my hand again, playing with my fingers. “What are the chances I can get you to come home with me tonight?”
“Hmm. Are we talking theoretical probability here?”
He shrugged. “If you insist.”
“Then I would say the desired outcome is highly likely. In fact, I would say it is a mathematical certainty.”
The following morning, Hutton woke up early as usual for his run, but I grabbed his arm and snatched him back into bed. “Five more minutes,” I begged.
Laughing, he pulled me close once more, and we lay tangled up in each other as the sunlight streamed through the window. We hadn’t even bothered pulling the drapes closed last night, we’d been in such a hurry to tear each other’s clothes off. Our reunion had been hot and frantic at first—we’d gone at each other as if we’d been apart for months, not days. But the second round was slower and sweeter, like we were settling into it and knew we didn’t have to rush. There was no deadline, no end in sight. No one was going to take this feeling from us.
“So about tonight,” he said, brushing his hand up and down my naked back. “I have a surprise for you.”
“You do?” I smiled and snuggled closer.
“Yes—that is, if I have permission to surprise you.”
“You do.” I giggled. “I like your surprises.”
“I just have one request. Can I pick you up for the party at your sister Millie’s house?”
“Sure. But why?”
“If I tell you, that will spoil the surprise.” He kissed the top of my head. “You just have to trust me.”
“I do.” I closed my eyes, blissfully happy. “I do trust you.”
“I haven’t mentioned this yet, but I told Wade I’m not coming back to San Francisco.”
I picked up my head and stared at him. “What? You’re leaving HFX?”