“I’m not sure I can take the risk,” she says.
My wine sits untouched on the coffee table. I don’t feel like drinking. It doesn’t feel like the moment to pretend everything is fine. She takes another sip of hers, stalling, I think, before placing the glass down.
I reach for her hand. “Antonia,” I say softly, “look at me.” She glances up. “You’re one of the strongest people I’ve ever met. I’ve watched you stare men down and talk to them as if they’re imbeciles. I’ve seen you control a room without even raising your voice. But this… this scares you?”
She laughs then.
The smile transforms her immediately.
I love it.
I haven’t seen her smile often. Last night at the restaurant had been wonderful. Outside afterward, even better. But watching her smile now makes my chest lift.
Our fingers lace together.
“You wouldn’t have asked me to come here if you didn’t think there was something between us,” I tell her. This is my chance. I take it. “If you wanted to end this, you could have sent an email. Or a message.”
She laughs properly this time. “Do you really think I respect you so little that I’d dump you by text?”
I laugh too. “I’d hope not. But I know how easy that option can be.”
Slowly, I shift closer, careful not to move too quickly, and take her other hand.
“You’re worth every risk I’ll need to take. Jump with me.”