Page 65 of Promise To Marry You
My lips curl up of their own accord at his very sweet offer. “No, it’s okay. I’ll go by myself.”
An idea comes to me. An idea I honestly don’t know whether is good or bad. Sitting up again, I move over to the side of the bed and stand up, keeping my back to Beckett. If I see anything on his face, I’ll lose my nerve. But the more I think about it, the more I know this is what I need to do.
“I think I’m…I’ll…I’m going to fly to Manitoba early.” I blurt out the words as I move to my closet and pull out my suitcase.
“Like, now, early?” he says from behind me, and I can hear the baffled tone of his voice. I nod jerkily, still not turning around.
“Yeah, I think so.”
He doesn’t respond right away. “If this is about what I said,” he starts, and I whirl around to interrupt him. There’s no fucking way I can handle having that conversationnow.
“It’s nothing, Beckett. I could just use a couple of days to think about things. About life. About what comes next, you know?”
That’s clearly the wrong thing to say as my worst nightmare comes to life and I see his face wreath in pain. “What comes next.” His voice is hollow. “I thought opening the studio in Dogwood Cove came next.”
“It does, I think. I just need a minute to breathe.” I’m begging him with my eyes and my heart to understand. To be the man who gives me chance after chance to get this right. To be the man who has enough confidence in us to give me the space my mind is screaming for, even as my heart is trying to tell me this is all wrong.
He slowly stands up from his bed, those brown eyes flecked with gold and filled with feeling looking back at me, somber, from behind his glasses. “Okay.”
I watch as he leaves the room without so much as a backward glance, and something inside of me fractures.
What the fuck am Idoing?
Chapter thirty-one
Beckett
BECKETT: Hey babe. Thinking of you, hope the hotel bed isn’t too lonely. Mine sure is.
BECKETT: Saw Mom and her walking group today and they all gushed over the mural. You’re so damn talented.
BECKETT: I miss you.
BECKETT: I’m sorry if what I said freaked you out.
I’m staring at the open message window on my phone, rereading the multiple messages that have gone unanswered except for the thumbs up emoji when I asked if her flight was okay. Before I do something stupid like press send, I delete the last one.
Cam’s been in Manitoba for two days. That’s it, just two days. But according to my heart, that’s two days too long. Especially since she won’t even text me back.
I fucked up. I said it too soon, she wasn’t ready, and now she’s run away. It’s classic Cam, and I shouldn’t be surprised or hurt, but I am. Somehow, I had convinced myself she was really in this with me, that it was serious, and real, and forever.
Guess I’m the fool. And what’s worse, Sawyer was right. Because here I am with my heart in my hands, alone.
For two days, I’ve dragged my sorry ass into work, done the bare minimum required to maintain some professional decency, then dragged my sorry ass home. I’ve been sleeping on the couch because my bed smells like her. I’ve been eating random leftovers and shit because I don’t have the energy to go to the store.
Basically I’m a pathetic sack of shit, and it’s only been two fucking days.
Thank God I held it together enough to remember one very important thing that had to happen this week. But other than my annual order to a Manitoba florist, I’ve been a useless, unproductive mess.
The jiggling of my front door handle sends a tiny hopeful spark through me that’s quickly dashed by the door opening and my three brothers, Hunter, and Leo walking in.
“Ah shit, it’s worse than we thought, boys. That’s a level four mope, right there.” Sawyer fixes his hands on his hips and stares at me. “We’ve got work to do.”
I take a swig of my beer and narrow my eyes at him. “I’m not moping.”
“You kind of are, buddy.” Leo pats my shoulder as he walks by, heading to the kitchen, carrying a pizza box.
“Don’t fight it, Beck, you know how Sawyer can be. He’s decided you’re upset and need a brothers night, so here we are.” Max lifts the box of poker chips and gives me a sympathetic grin. “And no offense, but you’ve looked better.”
