“Yeah. We’re good.”
There are a few moments of the two of us just looking at each other. He’s the one to break the silence. “Did you eat?”
God, this guy… he’s so nice.
Shaking my head, I run my hand over my stomach. “Is there any meatloaf left?”
Gage looks sheepish. “No. I ate it for dinner.” He pulls me closer, wrapping me up in his arms. “I’m sorry. I should have left you some.”
“No. It’s fine.” I pat his chest. “I’ll make a turkey sandwich or something.”
“Let me make you something.” His voice is extra soft, like he’s making sure not to set me off again. Probably a good plan.
“You cook?”
“Some. I make a mean grilled cheese.”
“You do?” I do my best to look impressed. “Well, then I’d love a grilled cheese sandwich.”
“Come on.” Gage takes my hand in his and pulls me into the kitchen. “Watch and learn, princess.”
Princess? While I like the moniker, I’m definitely not a princess.
I watch Gage work in the kitchen, and it’s pretty damn cute. Sure, I’m still a little miffed with him about the whole car thing, but I believe he’s sorry. Like really sorry.
The sandwich is golden brown and oozing with cheese. He was right, he makes a mean one.
“Mm, good,” I say after my first bite.
“Told ya.”
I don’t bother responding because I’m starving. Once I’m finished, I stand, taking the plate to the dishwasher. “Thanks, Gage.”
“Welcome.” He’s standing too far away for me to touch, so I step closer, holding my hand out. I hope he takes it. When he does, I tug on his a little bit. “Come on. I’ll give you a ride in my new kickass car.”
“Yeah?”
“Yeah. But swear to God, Gage, if you say one negative thing, I’m leaving you to walk home.”
He chuckles. “I won’t say a word.”
Chapter Thirty
Gage
Her car’s a piece of shit. There’s no other way to describe it. Sure, it started up okay today, but I give it less than six months. Hell, I’d be surprised if it lasted three. I’d love to know how much she spent on it, but I’m afraid to ask. Lucky for her, my dad taught me and my brother about cars when we were younger. There’s a good chance, though, that I won’t be able to fix what ails that car. I can change her oil, rotate her tires, stuff like that, but that grinding noise you hear on every turn? That’s going to need a professional.
And the dark smoke that puffs out of the exhaust pipe? Another job for a pro. But I do what she asked, keeping my mouth shut about what’s wrong and only focusing on the good. “It’s got power windows.”
“Right?” She beams and nods at my door. “That one is a little wonky, but it still works.”
I press the button for the window and watch as it is, in fact, wonky. It doesn’t go all the way down, and when it stops, it’s at an angle. But she’s right. It works. “Nice,” I say with a smile. One I’m forcing into place.
“The trunk’s roomy too.”
“Ah.” I nod. “Good.” I blink, trying to think of something to say. Finally I ask, “What do you plan to carry around in your trunk?”
She shrugs. “I don’t know. It’s just nice to have the room for whatever.”
“It is.”
And the fact that I’ve got a full-sized SUV in the driveway isn’t a factor, I guess.
But maybe she’s already planning on leaving. She could fit a lot of her belongings in the trunk, if that’s the case.
“Daisy?” I ask as she pulls up to the curb in front of my house.
“Yeah?”
“Are you planning on staying with me?”
“Huh?” She jerks her head to her right to look at me. “What? For now? Or—” She swallows. “—forever?”
“I… I don’t know.” I’m not ready for her to leave.
“I looked at an apartment today.”
“You did?” Where was that, I wonder.
“Yeah. I figured that’d be for the best.”
“I see.” I don’t see, but I’m not sure what else to say.
“You didn’t want me to live with you, did you?”
I don’t reply. What can I say to that?
“Gage?”
“Honestly?” I look over at her. “I don’t know what we’re doing.”
She reaches for the door handle and pulls. Nothing happens, so she uses her shoulder to force the door open. Before stepping out, she mumbles, “Oh. Right.”
Those are the last two words either of us says until we’re back inside my place. Our silence continues until it’s time for bed. Are we going to sleep together? Should I ask her where she’s sleeping? I listen as she does her nightly routine in the bathroom while I sit on my bed with my door half open. I didn’t want to shut it and make her think I didn’t want her to enter, but I didn’t want to leave it wide open in case... in case she walks past it. Talk about awkward.
When the bathroom door clicks open, I hold my breath. And wait. Her feet pad across the hallway into the spare bedroom, and my heart sinks.
Wow, it hurts.
Choosing to hide my reaction, I slide down beneath my covers and switch off my bedside light. Closing my eyes tight, I try to think about something else rather than the sick feeling in my stomach.
“Gage?” Daisy’s voice is soft. And close.
Clearing my throat, I say, “Yeah?” I turn my body to see her standing next to the bed.
“Do—” She stops. “Do you—”
“Yes.” I reach out and take her hand. “Yes. I want you in my bed.”
Her relief is obvious in the breath she just released. “Okay.”
Scooting over, I pull the blanket and sheet back to make room for her. As soon as she’s next to me, I drop the blankets over us, wrap my arm around her, and pull her close. Kissing her softly, I whisper, “I think I’ll always want you in my bed, Daisy.”
“Yeah?” I hear her sniffle.
“You crying, honey?”
“Maybe.”
“Why?”
“Because… I didn’t mean to hurt you earlier. I just don’t know what I’m doing with my
