“You already gave me a present,” Cary said, pushing the gift away. “I’ll say it again. The best present ever.”
“It’s for your birthday.” Tyler clapped in excitement. “Open it.”
Cary peeled the wrapping paper like a Christmas orange, thumbs digging in. “Is this a onesie?” he asked, lifting the lid.
“A Winnipeg Jets onesie. I have the same one. If we’re going to start dressing alike—”
“Start?” he joked. “Thanks. We can wear them tonight. Are you ready to go?”
“No.”
She sat on the edge of her twin-size bed and puffed out her cheeks before exhaling. This was it. The time had come. But what if he wanted to keep it casual? Could she play along?
“What’s wrong, babe?” he asked.
Her eyes became heavy, her conscience weighing in. “I think we want different things.”
“What are you talking about?”
She stalled to collect her thoughts. “I’m thirty-two, and I want to settle down. Not right this minute, but I want a family, and these things can take time, years even.”
Cary ran his fingers through his hair. “Okay, I’m not sure how that means we want different things. Is it because I’m on the road?”
“No, that’s your job.” She shrugged one shoulder. “I get it.”
“Is there something I should know?”
She blinked back the tears on her lash line. “I’m not trying to change you. I don’t want to change you.”
“Good,” he said. “I don’t want to change you either.”
“I know it’s stupid.” Her voice softened as she spoke. “But I want happily ever after. Or some version of it.”
He stared at the floor, not saying a word. Had she blown it? Why couldn’t she leave well enough alone? A million women would have killed to be in her position. And here she was, making demands on him.
“And you aren’t happy, I take it?” he said after a beat.
How could she explain it without hurting his feelings or giving him an ultimatum? “Marry me or else we’re done” didn’t seem right. It was too soon for that conversation.
She continued, “I want something more than this, and you’re this eternally single guy—”
“Eternally single guy?” His eyes widened, his mouth falling open. “Is that really how you see me?”
She nodded.
He took her hand gently, pressing a kiss to her knuckles. “Babe, that’s not true. I’vealwayswanted a family. That’s the dream. Look at me—I’m almost forty. A washed-up musician, heart way too open, waiting for someone to build a life with.”
“You’re hardly washed up.” She smirked, not buying it. “If you always wanted a family, why didn’t you have one sooner?”
“I don’t know. I guess I put my career first.” He shrugged. “Also, I was surrounded by emotionally unavailable women and bad lighting.”
She snorted. “Fair.”
“But seriously?” He leaned in. “I haven’t met the right person. Until now. So, will you be my girlfriend?”
Girlfriend. Did he just saygirlfriend?
“I’d love to be your girlfriend . . . but I promised myself I wouldn’t fall for a musician.”
