“Sure,” I agree roughly. I find myself leaning my left elbow on the bar top. “I think most people want that.”
“And so the things we argue about aren’t the things I’mreallyarguing about. It’s never ‘Do you love me as much as I love you, David? Will you prioritize me? Are we meant to last?’ It’s always ‘Why did you eat the last piece of chocolate pie?’ and ‘If your mother stays for two weeks again this Christmas, I am moving to Costa Rica, I swear to god.’” Perky laughs. “You see?”
I nod slowly because, weirdly enough, I do.
“David made up his mind that we were meant to be twenty-seven years ago. He told me he’d love me forever, and he’s never given me a reason to doubt it.” He shrugs. “I just have to be reminded sometimes that because I love him, Ibelieve him.”
I blink.
“And deep down, David likes the drama.” Perky bounces his eyebrows. “Keeps things spicy. For example?—”
“Oh. Wow. No, thank you. No examples necessary.” I straighten and cast my eyes around for a rescue. “Would you look at that? I think Jana has your order ready!”
Perky laughs out loud and shoots me a wink as he heads back to the front. “Always nice talking to you, Ames.”
He pays for his order and leaves, still chuckling to himself, while I stand there behind the bar, his words echoing in my head.
The rock to my storm.
Robbie said that in our matching tattoos, he thinks of me like the meteors. That I light up his sky, or whatever.
I don’t think of myself that way, but I definitely think of Robbie as the mountain. Solid, constant, dependable. He lifts me up and grounds me to Earth at the same time. He’s careful and honest.
So why the fuck am I so convinced that he’s going to change his mind about us? Why am I so determined to believe the worst?
Robbie’s never let me down. Not in sixteen years. He chooses me over and over again in every possible way.
He’s been there through every crisis, every unfortunate haircut, every musical evolution.
He helped me open my restaurant.
He pulled me out of a burning building, for fuck’s sake, and took two weeks off to nurse me back to health.
He could not love me more.
So why am I so damn scared? Why am I so worriedabout losing him, I’m pushing away before he can leave me?
Our whole lives, I’ve been telling him to want something badly enough to fight for it. But now that he has… I told him to stop.
What if… what if he’s right? What if he really does love me, and I’ve just forced him to prove it by…sleeping with someone else?
Oh, fuck. What have I done?
Jana’s not at the host stand, so I race to the kitchen, where I find her plating an order. “I’m sorry. I know it’s the middle of dinner service, but I’ve gotta go. Will you guys be okay without me?”
“Of course,” she agrees immediately. “Is everything okay? Is your collarbone hurting? Is something wrong with your family?”
“It’s Robbie,” I say, grabbing my keys from the office and sending up a silent prayer of thanksgiving that I’ve become an expert at one-handed driving this week. “He’s about to make a mistake, and it’s my fault.”
“Go, then! We’ve got this. Help your man.”
I don’t bother to correct her calling Robbie my man. I don’t even grab my jacket. I grab my keys and peel out of the parking lot fast enough to leave rubber on the pavement because it’s 7:05 p.m., and I’m worried it’s already too late.
I pass a bunch of sheriff’s vehicles heading in the other direction—there must be something going on in town—and make a mental note to ask Holden about it later, but I don’t slow down. I drive to Robbie’s house like my future depends on it because, in a way, it does.
When I pull into the driveway, my heart stops. Evenfrom this distance, I can see candlelight flickering through the partially open living room curtains. The whole place is glowing. It’s romantic as fuck.
I stumble up the path in a daze, seeing it all with new eyes. The porch where we’ve passed dozens of evenings. The spot on the lawn where my inflatable skeleton stood last fall. The red tulips—my favorite—we planted together last year.
