I take a deep breath because the last ten minutes have been a lot. And a lot of fun. But, yeah. I’m still a little worried.
“Less worried,” I concede, staring up into his earnest eyes. “But you did say you’d thought about it. I wanna know what you thought.”
His brows come together and he nods. Then he looks around like he’s forgotten where we are. Hell, I’ve forgotten where we are too.
Zach drops my ponytail and takes up my hand. “C’mon. Let’s sit down and talk.” He leads me over to the steps of Camp Bliss South. The cabin is empty for the next couple of days, which is why we started on the path to it this week.
We settle on the front stoop, still holding hands, knees touching. Zach looks down at my hand in his and rubs his thumb over my knuckles, gently. Lovingly.
“If that ever happens—” His gaze jumps to mine. “If you ever decide this isn’t what you want… that I’m not who you want—”
“That’s not—”
“I don’t want you to think I’d never want to see you again. Or that I wouldn’t want to keep working with you.” The skin around his eyes tightens as though he’s anticipating pain. The sight sends an ache straight to my heart.
I grip his fingers tight. “And if you decided I wasn’t right for you—” He interrupts me with a snort, but I keep going. “I’d still want to work with you. I’d still want to be here.”
With you.
I don’t add that last part, but the thought makes me sad. So sad.
It would be awful if that happened. If we grew apart. But losing him completely—as a friend. As a business partner. That would be even worse.
He nods like he’s reading my mind. “That’s good to hear,” he says gruffly. “And if that happened, I think we could afford to get another camper. So that you’d have your own place.”
It’s like a red-hot poker has been thrust into my breastbone.
His face tightens even more. “And if you didn’t want to, we wouldn’t even have to work on the same things. We could have completely different duties so our paths wouldn’t cross.”
That hot poker is making it damn hard to breathe.
Zach shrugs and tries to smile, but it looks anemic. “The place is big enough. We could make it work if we had to.”
I want to vomit.
“You make it sound easy,” I say, bile rising.
Zach huffs. “No. No.” He shakes his head and squeezes my hand. “It would be…” His gaze runs over me from head to toe like he’s memorizing every inch of me. His jaw clenches and the muscles stand out in his perfect face. “It wouldn’t be easy, Greta. But it would be a hell of a lot better than the alternative.”
I blink. “The alternative?”
I swear, he goes green. “Dissolving the LLC. Declaring bankruptcy and letting the bank sell off the assets.”
“Oh, hell no.”
His smile returns. It looks like it’s been beaten up, but it’s here. “Oh, hell no,” he echoes.
I squeeze his hand and eye him sharply. “Seriously, promise me we won’t choose that option.”
Zach chuckles, his smile brightening. His hand captures the back of my head. “I promise you, Greta, we won’t choose that option.”
“Even if I do something stupid and you don’t think I’m as cute as a Bitmoji anymore.”
He throws his head back, laughter booming.
I poke him just below his ribs, making him flinch. I’m trying hard not to crack a smile. “I mean it.”
“I promise, but you will always be as cute as a Bitmoji.”