Cuff Me(79)

He’d just have to ride it out and hope that she didn’t: (a) laugh

(b) get the wrong idea that this was the type of guy he was going to be.

He wasn’t the hearts and flowers guy.

And yet… Vincent sipped his wine and considered the table. Apparently he was that kind of guy.

Correction:

Jill Henley made him want to be that kind of guy.

At least dinner he could pull off without feeling like a complete ass.

Vincent seasoned the steaks, poked at the potato baking in the oven for doneness, and then refilled his wine.

There was a knock at the door, and Vin glanced at the table in panic. Did he light the candles now? That seemed cheesy. But if he didn’t light them, it seemed too random… just two unlit candles chilling on his table with those Goddamn flowers.

In the end, it was decided for him.

Jill let herself in and was in the kitchen before he even had a chance to think about where he might have stashed his matches.

He waited with trepidation to see if she’d laugh in his face at the table, but she was glancing down at her phone and didn’t seem to even see the flowers.

Vincent told himself it was just as well that she wasn’t into that kind of thing. It’s not like there’d be a repeat.

And yet, he felt…

Deflated.

Then she glanced up, met his eyes, and smiled—one of those happy smiles that lit up her whole face, and Vincent was gone.

It didn’t matter if she saw the flowers or laughed at the candles, because she saw him.

And that was what mattered. All that had ever mattered.

“Wine?” he asked.

“Later,” she said, moving toward him and winding her arms around his neck before pulling his head down to hers for a long, lingering kiss.

“I was thinking…” she said, when she pulled back and gave him a sexy look.

He kissed the tip of her nose, refusing to feel embarrassed by the dopey gesture. “Yes?”

She kissed him again, briefly. “Take me out.”

He pulled back. “Huh?”

“I know, I know, you hate that stuff, but hear me out. We could get all dressed up, I could put on lipstick, high heels. Go into the city, somewhere fancy, a little overpriced…”

“I was thinking we could eat in,” he said slowly.

Jill pushed back. Her smile was still in place but she looked… disappointed. “We always eat in, Vin.”

“I know, but—”

“No, I mean literally always. We’ve been seeing each other for two weeks now, and we haven’t gone out once other than crappy diner lunches.”

It stung. Just a little.

“Wine?” he asked, pushing the unexpected disappointment aside.

“Um, sure,” she said, sounding bored.

“So how was—”

“Are you ever going to take me out?” she interrupted. “I mean, I don’t need it all the time. I know it’s expensive, and not your thing, but Vin… I don’t want Chinese food and crappy pizza for the rest of my life.”

Just tell her. Tell her that you’re trying. That you spent an obscene amount of money on the best steaks you could afford, and somehow draw her attention to her flowers…

But it felt wrong now. This wasn’t how it was supposed to happen.

He felt a little lost and a lot defensive.

“I thought you knew what you were getting into. Fancy restaurants and romantic gestures have never been part of the equation.”

“So what, we just put on our sweatpants and call it a night, every night?”

He started to lift his hand to the table, but he let it drop to his side. “You know what, Henley? If you wanted oysters and Dom and red roses, maybe you should have stuck with Tom and his arsenal of tuxedos and his yacht that’s always on f*cking standby.”

He waited for her to deny it. Waited for her to tell Vin that it was him that she wanted.

Instead she looked miserable.

As miserable as he felt.

“What is it that we’re doing here, Vin? Are we just partners with benefits?”

He opened his mouth, but she wasn’t done.

“I know, you don’t like labels, you don’t think you’re a romantic guy, you’re skittish, I get that. I’ve been patient. I’m dealing with it. I don’t need promises of forever, but I just… I need more.”

Her voice was a little wobbly and he swallowed, his mouth dry.

He racked his brain for the right thing to say. Words had never been easy for him, but they’d never been this hard.

Nor this important.

And yet, he still didn’t know what to tell her.

He stayed silent, and in true Jill fashion she just kept talking. “I’ve been thinking that this relationship… that this relationship has been a long time coming. Fate, or whatever, but what we have is nothing more than you deciding you wanted something you couldn’t have but aren’t at all sure you want to keep it.”

He stepped closer. “That’s bullshit. This is more than that, and you know it.”

She looked away, and he cupped her jaw. “I’m not going to apologize for fighting for you, Jill.”

She put both hands on his shoulders, shoving him away, and his heart cracked just a little.