“I love.” My cheeks burn, and I knowthey’reas pink as my lip gloss.His are,too, but I refuse to think too hard about why. “You look very handsome.”
“And you look like a goddess.” He looks me over the same way I did him, taking in my little black dress and thighhigh boots. “Let’snot get distracted. What were you thinking about, Princess?”
“You... at the spa.” Icrackup all over again. “It might be the background on my phone.”
“Should’ve known.” He shakes his head likehe’sannoyed but the ways his eyes crinkle at the corners tells mehe’snot really. “I’ll never live that down, will I?”
“Not likely.”I turn away from him and unplug my curling iron. “Yougonnatell me where we’re going finally?”
“No can do.”He rocks back on his heels.
“Yes, can do. You’re choosing not to.”
“God forbid I want to surprise the woman I—” He snaps his mouthclosed so fast his teeth clack together.
“The woman you what?” I whisper, those four words freezing time.
I watch in fascination as he grimaces, his chest rises in time with his sharp inhale.
“Tell me,” Ibeg, stepping closer to him.“Please, Ellis. Tell me what you were going to say.” I wrap my arms around him, staring up into hisstormyeyes.
“I lied to you,” he finally says, and the hope blossoming in me withers and dies.
“Oh, okay.” Idrop my arms from around himand take a step back, bumping into the bathroomvanity. “A-about what?”
He scrubs a hand over his scruffy jaw. “French toast.”
“What?” I rest my weight against the counter, my mind racing for answers I don’t have.
“When you asked me why Atlas was so bent out of shape over the French toast, I lied.”
“Seems like a weird thing to lie about.”I cross my arms over my chest, gripping my upper arms, trying to physically hold myself together when all I want is to fall apart.How did we go from getting ready for our first real date to... whatever this is?
He nods. “Let’s sit down and talk?” He’s the picture of cool, calm, and collected.
Meanwhile,I’mon the verge of falling apart. I thought he was about to tellme heloved me.Stupid, stupid Scarlet.Icouldn’teven keep my stalker’s attention, so what hope did I ever have of keeping a man like Ellis Wilder’s?
“Sure… okay,” I say, in a daze. When I make no move to follow him, he steps back into the bathroom, guiding me with a hand to the small of my back.
I sit, as if on autopilot, hands clasped in my lap waiting for the inevitable let down. After all, noone’sever wanted to keep mebefore.
I wrack my brain, trying topick up onthe signs I missed.But nothing comes to mind.
“If you want me to leave, I will?—”
“What?”herears back like I slapped him. “Why would I want you to leave?”
“I don’t know.” My bottom lip quivers. “I’mso confused right now, Ellis. Idon’tunderstandwhat’shappening. I thought I did, but?—”
“God, I’m fucking this all up, huh?” He drops down next to me, bundling me into his arms. “I do not, inany way, shape or form, want you to leave, Scarlet. But I do want you to listen. Can you do that for me?”
I let out a shuddery exhale and nod.
He releases me, sitting upbut,angling himself toward me.“I told youAtlas blew it out of proportion becausemy dad taught me to make it, and this is partially true.What Ididn’ttell you was...it’ssort of anunofficial tradition in my family.”
“French toast is an unofficial family tradition, and you lied about it?” Individually, those are all words I know but strung together they sound nonsensical. Like gibberish.“I-I’m sorry, but I don’t understand.”
“When my dad realized he loved my mom, he cooked her French toast.”