“Probably a good thing you didn’t. If you had, I’d have to make you call me Dr. Pearson.” I wink.
She crosses her arms in front of her and leans closer to me, eyeing my lips. She inhales, which makes her breasts push farther up.
My gaze falls there.
“Is that right?” she whispers. “And why can’t I call you Dr. Pearson?”
“Too sexy coming out of your mouth.” I groan, the air around us shifting, and I dip my head even more, so there are only a couple of inches between our lips.
Her cheeks turn red as she watches me, studying me like she’s fascinated.
She swallows slowly, then clears her throat. “About the other night… when we, uh…” She dips her head and shifts in her seat. “You know.”
“We had sex, Clara.” I smirk, my voice low.
“Oh my God.” Her eyes widen, and a sheepish grin forms as she straightens her back.
“You can say it. We’re not kids anymore. Not like your dad’s going to chase me out of your house with a chainsaw.”
She covers her laugh with both hands, obviously remembering the time her dad caught her making out with one of her high school boyfriends. The next day, the guy spread it around school that Clara’s dad was insane, and it wasn’t worth it just to feel up her skirt.
But not even crazy dads with loud chainsaws could scare people away from Clara. She’s always had a larger-than-life way about her. A sparkling presence that makes you feel… better.
“We had sex. There, you happy?” she asks sarcastically.
“Damn right, I’m happy.” I point at the kit next to us. “And it was all thanks to Brooks’s joke, putting a condom in here.”
“He did what?”
“Brooks, the jackass, put a condom for me in here because according to him, this kit is for emergencies, and it seems like I’d only have sex in case of an emergency. Like if the world was ending.” I shrug, giving her a tight-lipped smile, then take a sip of my water. “Guess I haven’t been out much these last few months.”
“I still don’t get you.”
“What’s not to get? I work a lot. Not many people like that.”
“Is that why Dani left?”
“I broke up with Dani.” I frown. Why is she bringing her up again?
“Right, because of the commitment thing.” She stands, crossing her arms, and walks toward the window by my small breakfast table that never gets used.
The humor from seconds ago disappears as silence stretches between us.
What is she thinking?
Walking toward her, my feet feel heavy. The uncertainty of us—if we’re even still friends—suddenly crowds the room.
I stand behind her, my hands on her shoulders. I place a soft kiss on her neck, then whisper, “I’ve never had a fear of commitment.”
Her body tenses. “What do you mean?”
“No one compared to you.” She steps out of my hold before I can kiss her lips. Confused, I reach for her again, but she stops me. “I’ve only ever wanted you, and I couldn’t stand the idea of vowing to be with anyone else forever.”
“The night of the Harvest Festival.” Her mouth hangs open, a shadow crossing her expression. “You were talking about me.”
“It’s always been you.” My voice cracks as the words leave my mouth.
The words I’ve kept myself from saying to her for most of my life, holding on to them like a security blanket.
It’s the biggest secret I’ve ever kept from her.
“How? I mean, the other night was…” She bites her lip and looks out the window again. A lump settles in the pit of my stomach like I’m going to be sick. “What’re you doing?” she asks, facing me, her bottom lip quivering.
I stay quiet as the wheels in her head turn. She’s a thinker. She’s always been this way, but I just threw a curveball she never saw coming.
“What… I mean, when?” She shakes her head, her back hunched like she’s shrinking into a shell. “Why are you telling me this?”
“Because you need to know.”
“Says you?”
I sigh. “Yes. As your friend, I owe you honesty. I’ve always—” I cut myself off, dangerously close to biting my tongue. That way, I can avoid telling her how stupidly in love with her I am.
But I can’t tell her the extent of my affections for her. Not when she’s clearly freaking out.
Instead, I say, “I’ve always had feelings for you.” I lick my lips, tasting the words on them like I tasted her two nights ago. It seems so long ago now. “When you were marrying Mitch, I wanted to tell you. I wanted to stop you, but you were so… happy. Your hair was curled. Your eyes had a beautiful, love-filled spark to them. I couldn’t ruin the best day of your life.”
The room feels small, like the walls are closing in on us. As I keep talking, my voice doesn’t sound like my own. It’s like I can’t believe I’m the one saying these words, the ones I’ve kept so close to my heart from the one person I wanted to tell the most.
“So what, then?”
“What do you mean?”
“What were you going to do? Just be alone for the rest of your life? I mean, what if Mitch wouldn’t have… you know…” Her lips tremble as she peers at me through watery eyes. A lone tear escapes, falling down the curve of her cheek, and it about breaks me.
I take her shaking hands in mine. “I would rather be alone than with anyone who wasn’t you.”
“You can’t do this to me. You can’t put that pressure on me.” She lowers her voice to an eerie level.
“That’s not what I’m trying to do.”
She steps out of my hold, putting distance between us that I hate.
“You say it like I’m trying to hurt you.” My voice rises the longer she avoids eye contact. I clasp my fingers behind my
