Until Trevor (Until, #2)(37)

“I love you.”

Finally, the words are out and I feel like I can breathe. “I f*cking love you so f*cking much that it’s making me f*cking crazy.” I lay my forehead against hers. “I need you to say you will marry me. And don’t tell me that it’s too soon; I don’t give a f*ck what anyone says. It’s going to happen one way or another, so just agree.”

“What?” she questions and I can hear the shock and disbelief in her voice.

“Tell me you love me,” I growl. “I'm going f*cking crazy; tell me you love me.”

“I love you.” I watch as tears start to slide into her hair.

Seeing her tears, I realize that I have been such a dick. I hate seeing her cry. “God, baby. I'm so sorry. I'm an *. I just needed you to know that I love you, and I want you to be my wife.” Great, now I'm sounding like a *. I stand, picking her up, and I walk out to the balcony, where I sit down on the couch with her in my lap.

“That has to be the worst proposal in the history of proposals,” she says, her face tucked into my neck.

“It’s original.”

“Yeah,” she agrees, but doesn’t sound angry. But I'm pissed at myself. In my head, that’s not how I ever imagined asking her, and she deserves a lot more than some f*cked up jealousy proposal. I don’t even have a ring to slide on her finger.

“I take it back.”

“What?” she asks, lifting her head and looking at me.

“I take it back. Just forget the whole thing ever happened.”

“I—” she starts to talk, but I cut her off when I see tears in her eyes again.

“Shit. No, not that part. Definitely remember the part where I told you I love you; that hasn’t changed.”

“Oh.” Her face scrunches in confusion.

“One day, I'm going to ask you to marry me, and I’ll do it the right way. Until then, know that I love you.” I run my fingers down her cheek, watching her smile, feeling the weight that has been sitting on my chest finally release.

I lean in and start kissing her. She smells like coconut, ocean, and sun. She leans her head to the side, giving me better access to her neck. Then she’s gone, running back into the room. “Shit! I'm late,” she says, pulling a dress out of her bag, slipping it on over her head.

“Late for what?”

“I was supposed to meet Mom at the spa twenty minutes ago.” She pulls out her hair tie, unravels her braid, then pulls all her hair up into some kind of crazy ball at the top of her head. “I’ll be back in a couple hours,” she says, picking up her bag from the chair. Before she can run out the door, I grab her, kissing her deeply.

“I love you,” I whisper against her lips. She smiles, bending back against my arm, and looks up at me.

“I love you, too.” Before I know it, she’s gone, the door closing behind her.

“Shit.” I rub my face, thinking that I need to call November and see what she thinks I should do about proposing. I flop down on the bed, pull my cell out, and dial her number.

“You’re calling me from Jamaica? What’s wrong?” November answers on the first ring. I laugh at the motherly tone in her voice, then I hear my niece July start to cry in the background.

“Is this a bad time?” I hear Asher in the background telling her that he’ll take care of July while she’s on the phone.

“No, your brother’s got her. It’s his fault anyways; he won’t ever put her down, so now, if someone’s not holding her, she starts to cry.”

“I think you’re both to blame for that one.”

“Nope, it’s all his fault.” I can actually feel the love she has for my brother in her voice—as crazy as it sounds. “So what’s wrong? Why are you calling me from sunny Jamaica?”

“I think I f*cked up.”

“Trevor!” she huffs out, sounding just like Mom.

“I didn’t f*ck up like that.”

“How?”

“I told Liz I love her.” I don’t tell her that I held her down to tell her, then forced her to say it back, then told her she is going to marry me.

“So? She loves you; what’s the big deal?”

“How do you know?” I sit up, waiting for her to tell me how she knows. I never wanted Liz to tell me she loved me until she was ready. I didn’t want to force her, but that’s exactly what I did, held her down and forced her to tell me.

“She told me,” November says in a duh-tone, the same one she uses with all of us boys when she thinks were being stupid.

“Why would she tell you and not me?” Now, I'm pissed that she’s felt the same way I have and has never said anything, while I’ve been stewing over this for the last few weeks.

“She wanted to make sure you were both in the same place before she told you.”

“Jesus, why do women do that? Why do you guys think that you know what we’re thinking?”

“You’re a guy; you think about sex and sports. It’s not hard to figure out.” She laughs right before I hear a loud smack. “Asher,” she says, then I hear the phone go quite, and a loud moan. I hang up before I can hear anything else. Listening to my brother have sex with someone who I consider a sister is never going to happen. I lay back on the bed, closing my eyes.