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He steps out first and offers his hand to help me.
"We’ve done this before."
"Yes, the night I met you at the concert."
I stop in front of him, and suddenly, it’s like I’ve been transported to the past—as if, at this moment, we are the only two people in the world. "Only once?"
"There wasn’t time for more."
"Would there have been?"
"I don’t live my life based on hypotheticals, Taylor. I deal in certainties—then I make plans."
The magic shatters.
"Of course not. A man like youhastodeal in certainties, which makes me wonder—how can you be so certain about my betrayal? As you pointed out, you weren’t there with us."
I see his jaw tighten, and I immediately regret exposing myself. He can think whatever the hell he wants about me.
William places a hand on the small of my back and leads me into the restaurant.
I wait for the hostess to show us to our table, noticing how a few heads turn to look at him as he passes.
Once we’re seated, I ask, "You said you base your life on certainties, then plans. What are your plans for the future?"
He doesn’t hesitate. "If you’re pregnant, I’m marrying you."
If you’re pregnant.
Just to make sure I don’t run off with his child, most likely.
I feel like I’m suffocating, my heart crushed under the weight of realization.
I’ve been lying to myself.
I wasn’t in love with William.
I still am.
And to him—even back then—I was only special.
"I want to make a deal," I say, knowing that what I’m about to propose might seal my fate forever.
"What kind of deal?"
I see the suspicion in every syllable of his question. "If I’m carrying your child, I’ll marry you. But if I’m not, you’ll never look for me again. As you said, the attraction between us is impossible to control, but we don’t like or trust each other. I need to move on."
His icy blue-gray eyes lock onto mine like darts. I can practically hear the gears in his head turning, and I don’t understand why it’s so hard for him to agree. There are plenty of women more than willing to satisfy his need for sex.
His phone rings. With a slight hand gesture, he excuses himself to check the caller ID. But when he looks at the screen, his face twists into pure hatred. "What do you want, Dad?"
My blood turns to ice. I stare at him, anxious. If there was any chance we might come to an understanding today, it just died.
I don’t pay attention to the conversation, but when I hear my name, my pulse skyrockets.
"Taylor is with me. You’ll never go near her again."
At first, I feel nervous.