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The color fades from her cheeks, leaving her so pale, I’m worried she’s going to faint. Then, her eyes flash. She leans over the table and slaps at my chest. “You… You… Asshole.”
Electricity zips out from the point of contact. My heart seizes. My cock lengthens. Her touch is fucking everything. I place my hand over hers and hold it there.
“You saw how much of a shock what you were saying was to me, but you didn’t clarify what you meant,” she bursts out.
“Let me explain, I?—”
“No, you listen to me. Were you so oblivious to my internal agony? You saw how I was stuttering, how I was making a fool of myself, but you didn’t change the impression you were giving me.”
“You’re right.” I peer into her eyes. “I realized my words were coming out all wrong. I could tell you thought I was talking about someone else?—”
“You bet I was.”
“But my emotions were all over the place.” I infuse the urgency I feel, the nervousness gripping my insides—yes, Iamnervous—into my words, hoping the rawness I feel will communicate itself to her. “I can’t tell you how much courage it took to force out that proposal. But every time I spoke, my words came out all wrong.”
“Ya think?” She tosses her head.
I draw in another breath, urging my pulse to calm down. Opening myself up this completely to another person is the most vulnerable feeling in the world. But she hasn’t pulled her hand from mine. And she’s still listening to me. So perhaps, I didn’t mess this up completely. “I’m sorry I gave you the wrong impression. I was trying my best to correct it, but I only seemed to make it worse. I didn’t mean to upset you in any way, Cilla. You have to believe me.”
“Hmph.” She tips up her chin, but her eyes are clear. And the tension in her features has faded. Thank fuck.
“I am so sorry for making it seem like I was talking about someone else. I only hadyouin mind. I thought, for sure, you’d realize it wasyouI was referring to.”
“Well, you thought wrong,” she says primly.
But there’s a small quirk to her lips. My heart rate slows down. Perhaps, there’s hope for me, after all?
I squeeze her fingers one last time before I let go. Then nod toward her cup of tea. “Maybe, have another sip?”
She obliges, taking a sip. Some of the color filters back onto her face.
“So, thisisa wedding proposal?” Her voice is stronger, but her tone is cautious. It sparks a melting sensation in my chest.
“It is.” I look into her eyes. “Will you be my wife, Priscilla Whittington?”
“Wow.” Her jaw drops. She stares at me.
For a few seconds, neither of us speaks. We stare at each other. Me, trying to push down any hope that threatens to spring in my chest. And her, with an expression that goes from disbelief to incredulity… To anger. Shit.I thought I was over the worst.
“You have a nerve.” Her eyes flash golden fire again. “Asking me to be your wife because it’s convenient for you. Because I happen to be around, and no doubt, you have a deadline to meet, huh? Couldn’t find anyone else to fall in with your plans so, of course, you turn to me.”
“It’s not like that.”
Yes, it is. If I hadn’t been here as Serene’s nanny, would you still have reached out to me and asked me to marry you?”
It’s a question which hadn’t crossed my mind, but now that she’s asking it, I nod. “Yes.”
She frowns, taken aback, then leans back in her seat, her arms crossed over her chest.
“You don’t believe me?”
She flattens her lips.
I drag my fingers through my hair. “I don’t blame you. Because if I were in your position, I probably wouldn’t believe me, either. But it’s the truth.”
She frowns but still doesn’t speak. My heart begins to race in my chest. My words sound hollow, even to me. How do I convince her that I mean them? That she wasn’t just a convenient choice; she is myonlychoice. Somewhere, deep in my mind, I hoped that if she stayed on as Serene’s nanny, we’d get to know each other better, and perhaps, we could have had a slower, more organic build up—which might still end in something more permanent. Maybe. How can I convince her, when I hadn't let myself believe something like that was possible? When I tried my best to keep things professional between us? I have to try though, right? I lean forward in my seat.
“I’m aware we don’t love one another, but it should be clear to you that I respect you.”