Page 21

CHAPTER 21

FOX

“I am in love with you, Lilah Jane, and I refuse to apologize for it.”

She stares up at me, eyes wide.

Then, finally, she blinks. Once. Twice.

“Oh.”

Of all the things I thought Lilah might say, that was not one of them.

Oh? That’s it?

She stands there, saying nothing else, and now I don’t know what to say either.

Oh.

That single word rings in my head over and over.

I run my tongue over my lips, tipping my head to the side. “Oh?”

She nods.

“Is that all?”

She nods again, this time slower. “We, uh, we should probably get back to the party.”

I just poured my heart out to her, and she thinks we should get back to the party. Our engagement party. The one happening just outside the door. The one I completely forgot about, so damn focused on the woman before me.

The woman who doesn’t care that I just told her I love her.

What the fuck am I supposed to do with that? What am I supposed to say? Do I tell her again? Do I say it until I get a response other than oh ?

But I don’t. I just nod, my fingers falling to my shirt that’s still unbuttoned. We remain silent as I slip each button back into its rightful place, and it’s damn near deafening, even despite the fun being had outside without us. Lilah runs her hands through her hair, pushing the messy locks back into place, and then rubs at her nearly gone lipstick.

None of it matters. She still looks like she’s been thoroughly fucked, and I’m sure I do too. Just maybe not in the same way.

Oh.

That damn word echoes around my head again.

Once I’m righted, I clear my throat. “Do you want to go first?”

She nods. “Sure.”

She brushes past me, and I can’t stop myself from reaching out, the fingers that were just pressing against her and driving her wild circling around her wrist. She looks down at where I hold on to her, almost like she’s refusing to meet my eyes.

What does “oh” mean? Do you feel the same? Why can’t you talk to me? Where the fuck do we go from here?

I have so much I want to say, but I’m unsure where to start. So, I say nothing. I release her, and she stands there a moment, hope filling my chest.

Say something, Lilah. Anything. Just please say something.

But she doesn’t, and all that hope I was feeling goes out the door right along with her. I have no idea how long I stand there beneath the muted yellow light, but it’s not long enough to stop the questions that are still swirling.

Why did I have to say anything? Why did I have to go and ruin it? I wish I could say blurting it out was just the heat of the moment, but it wasn’t. Those three words have been sitting on the tip of my tongue for quite some time now. It’s a miracle they didn’t tumble out earlier.

But why tonight? When we’re surrounded by our friends and family and whoever else Selene invited? Now, I have to go out there and pretend the woman I’m head over heels for didn’t just completely crush me with one little word.

Oh.

I shake my head, forcing the word out of my mind, then pull open the door—and come to a halt. Hutch stands with his back against the opposite wall, arms crossed over his chest as he eyes me knowingly.

“What?” I ask, jaw tight as I run my hand through my hair.

“Want to tell me why Lilah came back out to her engagement party with tears in her eyes?”

Fuck. She was crying? I move to chase after her, but I’m stopped by my captain. It doesn’t matter that I have two inches on the guy; he’s still holding me back, not allowing me to pass.

“Hutch,” I snarl at him. “Let me go.”

He shakes his head. “Not until you tell me why. Because I told you what I’d do to you if you hurt her, and I meant every fucking word of it, Fox.”

“I didn’t hurt her,” I say through clenched teeth.

“She was crying.” He shoves at my chest again. “I fucking saw it. I just want an explanation for it. I want?—”

“I told her I love her!”

His eyes widen, and he releases me. “You did what?”

“I told her I love her,” I repeat, quieter this time. My shoulders slump forward, my throat closing in tight. “And she didn’t say it back. She didn’t say it back, Hutch.”

I knew how Lilah felt about love and relationships going into this—she was fully against both—and I knew how I felt about them. I knew it was risky. I knew I was playing a dangerous game. Yet, I played. I played it, and now I’ve fucking lost. This is nobody’s fault but my own.

Hutch sighs. “Fuck, Fox. Shit. I… I’m so sorry.”

I nod because I don’t know what else to do or what else to say. It’s not like any of it will suddenly make Lilah run back here and tell me she loves me too.

“Give her time,” Hutch says. “Sometimes, it just takes time.”

I don’t respond because I know he’s wrong. Lilah’s already made up her mind. She knows what she wants, and I’m not on that list.

My parents didn’t fight often growing up, so the times they did stick out like sore thumbs in my mind. I remember one particularly cold January night when we were on our way back from dinner—a treat in those days—and my parents didn’t speak the whole way home. My father came home late, and my parents whisper-yelled at one another behind closed doors before all of us kids climbed into the car, and we went out as scheduled. I heard words like gambling and extra shifts and the bar . I had no idea what any of it meant and I still don’t, but it made for the most awkward car ride of my life.

Until tonight. Lilah sits stiffly beside me in the passenger seat, her eyes focused on the road ahead of us, even though she might as well be looking a million miles away. My parents sit in the back just as quietly, and I imagine they feel just as I did way back when, like they have no idea what to do to break the tension.

So, they don’t. After a night that’s supposed to be full of joy and excitement, we ride home in utter silence. We don’t speak even as I pull into my parking garage or when we all slide into the elevator, my parents and me on one side, Lilah standing alone on the other. Nor is a peep uttered when I push open my apartment door, a chill racking through me since I forgot to leave the heater on.

Or maybe that’s just the iciness from Lilah. I can’t tell which.

“I hope you don’t mind if I turn in,” Lilah says, her voice so sudden in the otherwise quiet apartment that it makes me jump. “I’m exhausted and can feel a migraine coming on.”

Being the kind of woman she is, my mother smiles sweetly, meaning it to her core, and says, “Of course not, sweetheart. Go rest. We’ll be fine on our own.”

She wraps Lilah in a hug, and it’s so fucking hard to watch the way she clings to my mother, like she’ll never see her again. I have to look away.

When she turns to me, she hesitates, but it’s only for a moment. She pushes up on her tiptoes and presses her lips to my cheek. I turn my head, inhaling the familiar floral scent I’ve come to associate with her.

“Peonies.”

She pulls back, brows turned inward. “What?”

“I’ve been trying to figure out your perfume for months now, and I finally got it. It’s peonies, isn’t it?”

Her mouth floats open, her blue eyes bright with surprise.

Then she snaps it closed and mumbles a soft “Good night, Arthur” before hurrying out of the room.

I stare after her for a long time. So long that my father pats me on the back as he passes by, heading for bed himself, and it’s just me and Mama left. She stands beside me, resting her head against my shoulder as I stare down the hall at the spare bedroom door. One and three-quarters inch. That’s all that separates us, yet it feels like a thousand miles or more.

“Was this my fault?” she asks quietly, lifting her head from my shoulder.

I look down at her. “What? Why would you think that?”

“For what I said about wanting to see you happy. You two disappeared after that, and I was afraid I upset you.”

“No, Mama. It wasn’t you. This was… This was my fault, I think. I…messed up.”

“Do you want to talk about it?”

I shake my head once. “No.”

“I figured.” She sighs. “Guess I’ll do the talking, then.”

“Mama, I?—”

She gives me a sharp look that has me shutting my trap instantly. I nod, encouraging her to speak.

“I don’t know what happened with you two tonight, son. I’m sure you’ll tell me whenever you’re ready, and that’s fine. But I do know one thing that’s certain, and that is that tonight, I watched the two of you closely, and at least not until you disappeared did it ever seem like you were pretending. Not a single glance or simple touch or secret smile…none of it, Arthur. That was real. That was love . And trust me, after thirty-five years of marriage, I know love when I see it. It’s not always grand gestures and big presents or life-altering moments. It’s the small things that add up. It’s coffee dates. It’s holding hands. It’s showing up when the other person has had a bad day.” She smiles softly, and I assume she’s thinking of my father and the simple life they’ve always led. “You and Lilah… That’s what you have. You have something real, and for most people, that only comes along once in a lifetime. When it does, you hold on to it. You don’t let it go. You don’t let it pass you by. You might have to wait on it a bit, but you never, ever give up. Like that play in hockey you guys do when you’re down a goal. Where you go sit on the bench while your teammates keep playing.”

“Empty net,” I provide.

“Yeah, that. Why do you do it?”

“Because we want to score. We want to win. We want to keep playing until the final buzzer. Because we…”

“Never give up. That’s what you need here.” She pats my cheek. “Don’t give up hope, Arthur. Play until the final buzzer. And even if you have to, play some more. The real thing is worth it.”

I want to believe her, I really do, but it’s hard when you pour your heart out to the woman you love and she barely acknowledges you’ve said anything.

She sighs heavily, then gives me a tightlipped smile. “Get some sleep, son, and think about what I said, all right?”

I nod, not trusting myself to say anything right now. She tells me good night, and I watch as she makes her way to my bedroom, then I pull my eyes right back to that door. I stare and stare and stare some more until my eyes and legs grow as heavy as my heart feels. Only then do I force myself from the spot, moving down the hall and past the door.

I do my business in the bathroom, taking my time because, fuck, I’m not even sure if Lilah wants me in that room next to her. It has to be well after midnight by the time I finally find myself standing outside the door, my hand hovering above the knob. And at least another ten minutes before I convince myself to actually use it.

I push the door open as quietly as I can, careful not to wake Lilah, then slip beneath the blanket she’s already hogging. The second I lie down, exhaustion from the evening sets in, and my eyes fall shut of their own accord. I’m just about asleep when Lilah shuffles next to me, and I hold my breath, knowing she’s awake and waiting for her to say something.

But, just like earlier, she doesn’t. Instead, she rolls over and puts her head on my chest just like she has so many times before, and just as I have, I wrap my arm around her and hold her close.

Play until the final buzzer. And even if you have to, play some more. The real thing is worth it.

Mama is right. The real thing is worth it, and I believe what we have is real, so I’m going to keep playing. I’m going to wait. I’m going to give Lilah all the time in the world. Whatever she needs.

I’m playing until the final buzzer.