Page 200 of Securing the Pucking Rebound

I should say no. I promised myself I’d hold him off until the new year. That I’d give myself this time to think about everything that’s happened and make a well-thought-out, rational decision about my future.

But sitting here now, staring into his eyes, all I want to do is say yes.

I’ve missed him so much. I’ve missed out on evenings together, watching him cook, eating his food. I’ve missed snuggling up with him in bed and waking up beside him the next morning.

But he lied to you.

I shake that thought off.

“Okay,” I finally say.

His lips twitch, but he doesn’t allow himself to smile. Not yet. “Yeah?”

I take a moment before I agree, soaking in the hope and happiness that are glittering in his eyes.

“Yeah.”

There’s the smile. It’s so wide it lights up his eyes. It’s a smile that the rest of the world doesn’t see. They get the cocky smirk. That smile…that’s just for me.

It makes me feel special in a way I don’t think I’ve ever experienced before.

It stays on his lips as I clip his nails and finish his manicure.

“There, you’re all done. What do you think?”

“Beautiful,” he states without looking at his hands, his focus purely on me. “And the best manicure I’ve ever had.”

“The only manicure you’ve ever had?”

“It would still be the best, no matter what.”

I shake my head at him as I begin tidying up.

“What now?” I ask, nerves starting to flutter in my stomach.

I may have agreed to dinner, but that’s two days away.

Is he just going to leave now?

“I got a rideshare here. I was hoping that maybe I could drive you home?”

Alarm bells ring, but I easily ignore them. I’m not ready for our time to be over yet.

“Okay,” I whisper.

I suddenly realize how tense he is when his entire body deflates and he slumps in the chair.

My chest aches. I’m not the only one who’s been hurting.

The need to reach for him burns through me, but I keep my arms locked at my sides.

“I’ll just tidy up. I’ll be ready to go in ten minutes,” I say as I begin moving around the room, putting products back on shelves. His eyes follow me everywhere, ensuring goose bumps prick my skin, and my blood heats.

“Can I help with anything?”

“No,” I say a little too forcefully. “Sorry, I—I’ll be right back.”

I rush out of the room like the hounds of hell are chasing me, and it’s not until the staff room door closes behind me that I take a breath.