That’s the thing—she hasn’t told me she isn’t interested. She just avoids giving me a real answer.
I scowl at Bear. "You don't get it, asshole. She's different from any woman I've ever met. She's not just some girl, she'sthegirl. I can feel it in my fucking bones. She's the one for me, dude."
"Damn," he says dryly.
"What?"
"Nothing, it's just shit that you're falling so hard for someone who's giving you bread crumbs in return."
Fuck, that hits a little too hard when said aloud.
I sigh, "Yeah, I know. So what do I do?"
Bear chokes out another laugh, one that holds no amusement. "How the fuck should I know?"
"Bro, you're the one always writing love songs. You're like Mister Poetry. I know damn well you hold all the secrets to a successful love life. Now, tell me. What should I do?"
Something like pain settles on Bear’s face. He shakes his head, annoyed, as he turns back and begins to work again. "You lay it all out there. Be honest with her and yourself. Whatever answer she gives you, let that be final."
I stare at him blankly, blinking a few times in disbelief. Maybe that’d work with other women, but Izzy’s different. For some reason, be it fear or insecurity or something else, she says one thing, but thinks and means another. If shedidgive me an answer, I have a feeling it’d be the opposite of what she actually wants. In other words, I can’t lay it all out there. I can’t force an answer out of her. I have to push gently, working little by little until she freely gives me what I’m looking for—hoping for.
"You're right, you don't know shit," I say, turning back to start working again.
Bear throws his hands up. "I fucking told you I don't, jackass."
"Is this another one of your family's businesses?” Izzy asks as she takes in the restaurant around us. This one is a little classier than the others I've taken her to. It's actually the fanciest one we own.
I want tonight to be special—the night I practice what I fucking preach and push her a little more.
Izzy is dressed beautifully—she always looks stunning. Half of her light blonde hair is pinned back, and the other is curled anddraped over her shoulders. She's wearing a short, V-neck, light pink dress with long sleeves that perfectly hugs her toned body.
"Mhm,"I murmur, staring at her in fascination. She continues to take in her surroundings.
I love the way she appreciates the world around her. It's beautiful to watch. I could get lost watching her like this.
"There's no dancing in this one," she states, her gaze shifting to mine, looking slightly disappointed.
"Nope."
"Okay, spill it."
"Huh?"
"You've been weird all fucking night. Quiet even. It's weirding me out. Is this the part where you tell me I was right all along, and you're finally ready to chop me up into little pieces now that I've let you into my world? Damn, that would be a bummer."
Okay, so this isn't exactly how I wanted to bring it up, but fuck it. Here goes nothing.
"Have you, though?" I ask softly, just above a whisper.
"Have I what?" Her tone shifts, and confusion is painted all over her face.
I swallow the fucking nerves. "Have you let me into your world? Some days I think you have, other days... I'm not so sure."
She stares at me silently for a bit, her expression hard to decipher. "If you have something real to say, just fucking say it. Why beat around the bush?" Her words come out cold and calculated, as if she's shut down and thrown her defenses up.
I can already sense this isn't going to go like I hoped it would. Again. But this isn’t just about her. I’m in this, too, and no matter how long it takes, I need an answer. Hell, I deserve one.
"I want in, Izzy," I say, matter-of-factly.
