Except, it appears that he is. Proposing, that is.
“Colette Russell?—”
“No.”
“You’re thirty, Colette. I’m thirty. We made a pact, and I’ve waited four-thousand-four-hundred days until I was able to call it in.”
My mind short circuits. “You’ve… I—No.”
“Why not?” he asks, and I laugh. Laugh!
I take the box out of his hand, closing it so I don’t have to see the most perfect fucking ring staring at me—mockingme. “People don’t get married because of a pact they made at eighteen, Benoit! Are you insane? And how much was that ring?! You should return it.”
“I’m not returning it.” His hand slides up my leg, stroking my thigh under my skirt. I bat it away because damn him for distracting me.
“Well, I’m not taking it. Get up! You need to leave.” I can hear the panic in my voice. Feel it in the way my heart is beating out of my chest.
Blessedly, he listens to me, getting slowly to his feet. “Five dates.”
“What?”
“Go on five dates with me. Then you can decide if I should return the ring,” he clarifies.
“No!”
“Five dates… please?” His brown eyes meet mine, flecks of gold dancing throughout his irises. He’s serious. I can tell just by looking that this isn’t a joke to him.
“Maybe. If I agree, we go on five dates,” I repeat. “And then you take the ring back.”
His grin is panty melting, and I really, really need him to leave before I do anything stupid. “Deal,” he mutters, handing me the box.
I pull my hand away from his. “You keep it until then. I don’t want it.”
“Wear it?” he asks, head dipping toward me. He’s a breath away when he whispers, “Please?”
I shake my head because that is ludicrous. I can’t wear this ring. It’s huge! People will notice!
“Please?” he asks again, lips brushing mine. The barest touch that sends an electric shock through me.
“Maybe,” I reply, because I’m no longer operating out of my prefrontal cortex. That one word is all it takes, and then he’skissing me fully. His arms wrap around my waist, drawing me flush against his strong body. I kiss him back until I remember what the fuck he just talked me into. Then I put my hands between us and shove, hard.
“Out!” I gasp, but my heaving chest betrays me.
The motherfucker grins, leaning in to plant one more kiss on my forehead. He drops the ring box on the counter and then he’s gone. Leaving me reeling over whatever the fuck just happened.
Hey Thea. It’s Cole. Any chance you are free for coffee this week? Or I’m not sure if you can drink coffee when you’re pregnant…
Just googled it and there are mixed opinions but I’m happy to meet somewhere else too. Maybe Louie’s?
Fuck, why is this so awkward. I haven’t tried to make a new friend in… I actually don’t recall ever intentionally trying to make a friend. Thea and I have seen each other a few times and texted here and there but we haven’t really “bonded” yet. So here I am, trying.
And resenting the fact that it’s incredibly humiliating to put yourself out there like this.
Thea
lol yes I can drink coffee! But I’m also craving fried pickles from Louie’s so I’m happy to meet there!
How about tomorrow night?
