“That’s a discussion for a different day.” His lips curved into a smile. “What’s important now is you telling me if you’re willing to date me.”
“I’m still upset with you.”
“I’ll help you get over it.” He tucked a strand of hair behind my ear. “Multiple times.”
“I need to think about it,” I said. “Even if I wanted this, it wouldn’t work. Not with how we live. Not with what we do.”
“You’re making this far more difficult than it needs to be…” He adjusted his hold on me, pulling me closer as the music slowed.
“This is very simple,” he said, swaying me to the music. “Dating means you’re mine, and I’m yours, and there’s no one else on either side. Correct?”
“Correct…”
“To be clearer, I’m the only man you’re sleeping with, and your body belongs to me?”
“What? No…”
“No?” He stopped moving.
“I mean yes, but no, you don’t have to word it that way.”
“I have to make sure all the details are right,” he said, moving again. “It’s the Katie Elizabeth way…”
I held back a laugh as he dipped me and pulled me up again.
“I actually enjoy hanging out with you, so dates shouldn’t be a problem,” he said, lowering his voice, “but you’ll need to free up some work hours…Ninety hours a week isn’t going to work anymore.”
“I can go down to eighty.”
“Your business practically runs without you,” he said. “You only work so much so you won’t have to face doing anything else, and that won’t be fair to me.”
“That’s not true.” I shook my head, even though it definitely was. “Sixty hours, then?”
“Forty like a normal person, Katie,” he said. “Fifty here and there…”
“I really love my job, Asher.”
“You love writing, too,” he said. “When are you ever going to make time for that?”
“I…” I said nothing as the music shifted, as he stared into my eyes and continued swaying my body to the different beat.
My mind raced with all the empty and broken drafts I’d stopped and started over the years, the published books on my shelves that I wished I’d written if only I’d had the time…
His thumb brushed along my jaw, slower this time, like he was waiting to see if I’d pull away.
I didn’t.
I looked past him—at the couple I’d spent months planning for, at the room full of people who believed in forever—and for a second, I felt like the biggest hypocrite in the world.
“Okay,” I said to him. “One chance.”
His grip tightened instantly.
“Good.”
“And if this goes to shit,” I added, “I’m blaming you.”
“I’d expect nothing less, but I can guarantee that won’t be happening...”
