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LAYLA

This was all wrong.

I squeezed my eyes shut as I allowed that thought to move through me. How could it be wrong? It was perfect.

Hewas perfect.

But that knowledge couldn’t stop me from being overwhelmed by a sense of dread, fixating on the worst-case scenarios.

Despite the comfortable evening air, I was overheating. Sweat trickled down my spine, and my palms were clammy.

Every muscle in my body was tight, and if I didn’t figure out how to ingest more oxygen, I wasn’t sure I’d remain standing much longer.

Maybe that was the best option, though. No doubt that would be better than having to do something that was bound to break me, to break the both of us.

“Layla?”

My tingling hands balled into fists at my sides.

That smooth voice. Those brilliant blue eyes.

He was so confident. He’d always been that way with his booming laughter and easygoing manner and playful smile and relentless flirting. The list went on and on.

He was the best there was.

He deserved everything.

But I wasn’t the one who could give that to him. I was a mess.

His calloused hand reached for mine. Though there was comfort, familiarity, and tenderness in his touch, my panic rose. My breathing grew quick and shallow.

No.

No, this couldn’t be happening.

Not yet.

Not now.

“I want to spend the rest of my life with you, Layla. Will you marry me?”

I had to be honest. I had to tell him the truth.

But those eyes were killing me. One look with those eyes, and I was putty in his hands. I’d gotten lost in those eyes more times than I could count.

Why was he doing this to me?

How could I not give him what he wanted?

Down on one knee, looking up at me like I was all that mattered, there shouldn’t have been any doubt for me.

And yet, there was.

He stroked his thumb lightly over my knuckles. I swallowed roughly, my throat painfully tight.

“I’m… I can’t,” I rasped, my voice strangled. “I can’t.”