“Cheer up,” Boone says, handing me another beer. I take it, my mood plummeting further down.
“Garrett’s right,” I say, staring into the fire. “It’s my fault. I should have never said yes to the agreement. I should have just told her I wanted more from the beginning.”
The guys are quiet and I sigh, telling them the rest of the story. I skip the part about the ring, partly because I don’t want her to overhear, but partly because Boone and Garrett already know. They’re the ones that went shopping with me.
“So, let me get this straight. You two idiots are crazy for each other, but you’re too dumb to make it official?” Jacob asks, confused.
“It’s complicated,” I mutter, taking another sip of beer.
“Is it, though?” he presses. “Sounds to me like you’re both making excuses. She doesn’t want the world to know, which fine, whatever. Plenty of couples keep their relationship under wraps.”
“Like who?” I ask.
“Did you know Alexevich and Dunn are married?”
“What?” I ask, surprised. Both men are tennis players who retired in the last couple of years. I had the privilege of losing to Dunn at the Australian Open when I fractured my ankle.
“How do you know that?” I ask.
“Because I’m likeable and people trust me with their secrets.” Jacob winks and I roll my eyes. “Because Jack and I are friends. And you didn’t hear it from me. The point is, if Maggie wants the relationship a secret, that’s doable. My guess is there’s some other reason she made that list. And you—” he says, poking me in the chest, “you’re just too scared to ask for more.”
“That’s not true,” I try to argue, but the rest dies on my lips. The beers are making me sluggish and my mouth numb. I’m just so tired. I sigh, looking over at the tent. The lamp light is off and my guess is that Maggie is already asleep.
“It is. I bet you have a ring hidden somewhere but you keep putting it off, right?” Jacob says, a serious look on his face.
I blink at him and look over at Boone and Garrett. Bothseem just as impressed with Jacob’s deduction skills as I am. Swallowing, I nod.
“You should ask for what you want. Is a rejection worse than torturing yourself for another decade?” he asks.
“I don’t know,” I mumble, staring into the fire.
The sleep isfitful in the back of the Jeep with Archie at my back and I stir at every rustle of leaves or scatter through the brushes. I wanted to give Maggie her privacy so I grabbed a sweatshirt and sweatpants, and made myself comfortable here. When I finally think I might pass out for the night, I hear the sound of a zipper opening and closing and the click of a flashlight. I throw my arm over my eyes—I don’t need to see one of the guys pissing in the nearby woods.
I listen to the footsteps, expecting them to get quieter and quieter, but instead they get louder. I pull my arm down and get blinded by the white light.
“Fuck,” I hiss, turning my head away and burying it in the blanket.
“Sorry, I didn’t mean to blind you,” Maggie whispers, lowering the flashlight.
I turn my head back and watch her carefully climb into the back of the Jeep. She lays down next to me and props the light between us. I unfold the blanket and extend it over to her, so we’re both sharing it.
“Thanks,” she says, watching me with red rimmed eyes. I reach out and run a thumb over her cheek.
“I’m sorry. This isn’t how I wanted this trip to go,” I say, blowing out a breath.
“I guess Italy was a one time thing,” she says, bottom lip wobbling.
Pressing my forehead to hers, I say, “Don’t say that. You know that’s not true.”
She blows out a shaky breath and nods in agreement. I swallow hard and press a kiss to her nose.
“I get why you told them,” she says after a moment. “They’re your family.”
“You’re my family too,” I whisper, tucking a loose strand of hair behind her ear.
“I don’t know what to do,” she says, nuzzling my neck and wrapping an arm around my waist. She knocks the flashlight over in the process and we’re left in the dark.
I wrap my arms around her, pulling her closer into me, breathing in her orange and vanilla scent. It’s diluted by the bug spray and sunscreen, but it’s still there. Warm and sweet. “Maybe…after the exhibition match, we can revisit the agreement,” I say, heart in my throat. It’s time we call this for what it is. No more beating around the bush.
