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“There’s nothing to tell yet, Mom.”

“Oh, I bet by the end of tonight you could have a ring on your finger! I wouldn’t doubt it at all.”

“You’re rushing things. Please, don’t expect that.” I start to sweat just at the thought of it. A ring on my finger? Engaged? Absolutely not. We’ve only known each other for a couple of months! But his father’s words flit through my brain.

When you know, you know.

If that’s something the Lancaster men live by, then maybe Mom isn’t too far off with her prediction. And again, that’s absolutely terrifying. A ring? Marriage? I’m not ready for that. At least I don’t think I am, especially since August and I are a little rocky at the moment.

Ugh. This is so dumb. We just need to talk to each other and work it out.

I get off the phone with my mom and make my way over to the Lancaster estate. I enter the code August’s mom gave me yesterday and the iron door next to the gate unlocks. I jog alongthe driveway, anxious to see him, but by the time I get to the front of the house, I see the Porsche parked there but no August in sight.

Fighting disappointment, I enter the house. It’s quiet, like no one is here and I head up the stairs to my bedroom, wishing he was around instead of me having to seek him out. The longer we go without talking, the more awkward this is going to be and I don’t want my parents to figure out that things might not be so good between us. The last thing I want is for my mom to ask me a bunch of questions and try to pry into my private life.

Sighing, I move down the hallway toward my room, coming to a stop in front of the closed door with a frown. I don’t remember closing it…

I slowly open the door, peeking my head around it and gasping in shock when I see what’s waiting for me.

Chapter Fifty

SINCLAIR

The entire room is filled with white roses. They’re literally everywhere. Vases of them on top of the dressers, the nightstands, the little desk below the window that looks out over the backyard. There are pink rose petals strewn across my bed and when I look down, I realize there’s a path of red rose petals that leads from the door to my bed. Their pungent scent fills the space and I take a deep breath, savoring it.

I was gone for maybe thirty minutes tops and August arrived back at the house not even ten minutes ago, maybe a little longer. When did he have time to do this? Because clearly this was put together by August.

Hopefully.

I move through the room, guilt filling me over my running shoes crushing the delicate petals and I come to a stop, taking off my shoes and tossing them aside. I scan the room, looking for a note, a clue, a sign that August actually did this but I see nothing.

“Do you like it?”

Screeching, I nearly jump out of my skin at the sound of that familiar deep voice coming from behind me. I turn to find August standing in the open doorway of the connecting bathroom, leaning against the doorsill. He’s got a nonchalant air about him, his hands shoved into his jeans pockets, a casual expression on his face. As if he hadn’t a care in the world.

In this moment, he reminds me of his father. His stance, the even expression. He looks like he doesn’t care but I wonder if I said a certain something, would he spring into action? Not that I know what to say…

“You did this?” I glance over at the bed before returning my gaze to his. “You went to a lot of effort.”

“I told you I would,” he drawls, still not moving.

“Are you trying to prove something to me?” I swallow hard, my body trembling. It’s risky, asking him that question. I’m not trying to be rude. I just want to know where I stand with him. Where we stand with each other.

“Didn’t I essentially tell you that last night?” He pushes away from the doorframe, taking a few steps toward me before he stops. “You’re either being purposely clueless or you don’t want to be with me. Tell me what it is, Sin. Put me out of my misery.”

A shuddery breath leaves me. “I need to hear the words, August.”

He frowns, his brows drawing together like they always do. “Hear what words?”

“That you care, that you hate me, that you like me okay. That you’re in love with me and want a future with me and you can’t live without me. That you want me gone, banished from your life like I never existed. Whatever it is, however you’re feeling, I need to hear it. The words. I need them.” I press my lips together, afraid I took things too far. I don’t like feeling unsure. On edge. And I’ve experienced that feeling ever since August and I reconnected a couple of months ago.

I want to know how he feels, and I want to be brave enough to tell him how I feel too. This conversation needs to happen if we’re going to move forward.

“You need words?” When I barely nod my answer, he goes on. “I can give you all the pretty words you need, my Sin. I care about you. I used to hate you and then eventually, I liked you okay. I’m fairly certain I’m in love with you and I want and see a future with you, and I know for a goddamn fact I can’t live without you. I could never want you gone, banished from my life because life wouldn’t be worth living without you in it. If you never existed? Then I’d never know.” He rests his hand against his heart, clutching his fingers into a fist. “But there would be a hole in my heart because you weren’t here. Don’t you realize that you’re mine?”

I blink, all of those earlier uncertain emotions that swirled in my brain disappearing at his declarations. He’s right. He’s so right. I feel the same exact way. “You’re in love with me?”

He actually rolls his eyes, the infuriating man. “That’s the one thing you’re sticking on? Sinclair, I told you I can’t live without you. That’s a pretty fucking bold statement.”