“Yeah,” I croak. Fuck, why do I feel like I’m going to cry? What is wrong with me?
“But is there anything you need?”
“Anything I need?” I parrot, confusion washing over me.
Like a parting gift? I almost snort at the thought. That’s probably something Camden Snow would do. Send his ex a vibrator to keep her company since she no longer has access to him.
Okay, maybe that’s a bit much. But he’d probably send sympathy flowers or a fruit arrangement. Actually…I eye my full plate of food. A fruit arrangement would be nice. Especially if it was dipped in chocolate. “I guess I wouldn’t say no to chocolate,” I hear myself replying.
What the hell, Savannah?
“Of course,” he responds immediately. “Yes. Absolutely. I already picked some up.”
“What?” Jaw unhinged, I blink, then blink again. Disbelief hits me first, though it quickly morphs into anger. I texted him less than ten minutes ago, and he’s already purchased breakup chocolate for me? Wow. Jeez. “Do you keep chocolate stocked for all the girls you date?”
“What? No.” There’s some shuffling on the other side of the phone, and when he speaks again, his tone is more even, though still hesitant. “I bought this for you. I also picked up a heating pad, and my sister says she likes salty foods when she’s on her period, so I’ll stop for fries as well. I’ll be at your place in ten. Do you need anything else? And think about what you want for dinner. We can have it delivered.”
“Delivered?” I peer down at my plate again. “You’re on your way? What are you—” I swallow back the question and shake my head. “Camden, what are you talking about?”
“You sent me the link to your app to tell me you’re on your period, right? I totally get that you wouldn’t want to go out when you’re feeling crappy, so I thought I’d bring dinner to you. Is that not what you want?”
Tears prick the backs of my eyes, my nose tingling. Shit. I shift so I’m facing the wall because both Nick and Rosalie are watching me like I’m the nightly news.
He thought I was telling him I’m on my period. He’s not breaking up with me, he’s bringing me chocolate.
Without my permission, the tears fall. I’m crying about a man. And I’m not even on my period. Shit. Why is Camden Snow so perfect? And how the hell am I going to break up with him now?
TWENTY-FOUR
CAMDEN
Me: You’re sure salty food and chocolate are the key here?
Cora: Yes, Cam. There’s not a woman in existence who doesn’t like chocolate when she’s on her period.
Me: Okay, it’s just…she seemed off.
Cora: Honestly, I’m shocked she told you she was on her period. Women don’t typically talk about that stuff early on in a relationship. Either she feels exceptionally crappy, or you’ve been so great with her that she’s already comfortable being vulnerable with you. Either way, chocolate is key.
Me: Thanks. I’m just not good at this stuff, and I really want to get it right. When she first gave me her number, I didn’t call her for a week, and she almost ended up on a datewith someone else.
Cora: Hahaha. I’m sorry. I’m not laughing at you. I’m just…well, actually, I am laughing at you. But also, it’s adorable. You’re doing the right thing. Promise.
I glanceover my shoulder at the bags in my back seat, then peer up at the older apartment building. This is the address she gave me. I’ve checked twice. But this is not a great neighborhood. I don’t think I like that she lives here alone.
She should have security and a doorman. Or she should move in with me, where I can handle her security.
I blow out a rough breath. I’m getting ahead of myself. Way ahead. We still haven’t gone on a damn date, and I’m talking about moving her into my house.
And yet the idea doesn’t freak me out. None of this does. That alone should freak me out. The not freaking out should totally freak me out.
“Get out of the car, man,” I mutter.
And now I’m talking to myself. Fuck, I’m a disaster. I check the mirrors before stepping onto the street—because there is no off-street parking—and grab the bags from the back. I hit the lock button on my key fob twice for good measure, a little concerned that my Land Rover might not be here when I come back out.
Though the area isn’t the safest, her building and the ones around it are well taken care of. The front door is decorated with a wreath and Christmas lights, and the names on the buzzer panel aren’t even faded. Donovan is first. Then Donadio. And finally S.B.
My chest swells with pride when I note that she doesn’t have her last name written out on the label next to the buzzer. Smart girl.
