“To Anguilla.” I clinked my glass against his, and then I held it to my mouth, pretending to take a sip.
“Have you eaten?” he asked, and when I shook my head, he added, “Good.”
He disappeared into the house once more, and this time when he returned, it was with two silver-domed plates that looked suspiciously like the ones room service would deliver at the Huxley Grand. He placed them on the table before me, and when he lifted the domes with a dramatic flourish, I gasped.
I glanced up at him, fighting back tears. There was no way I was going to make it through this evening without crying. He was so sweet and thoughtful. And he’d gone to all this effort…for me.
“How?” I asked, holding a hand to my mouth. How had he gotten one of the exact meals we’d had in Anguilla?
He lifted his shoulder, a small smirk playing at his lips. “I have my ways.”
I shook my head, stunned by it all. “Thank you. I have felt so loved this entire week, and tonight is…” I swallowed hard. “Really special.”
He took the seat across from me, smiling. “Good. Because I do love you, and you deserve to feel special.”
“So do you,” I said, wanting him to know that he was special to me, loved beyond compare.
The corner of his mouth lifted. “Let’s eat before this gets cold.”
As we ate, I watched Frasier from beneath my lashes. Despite the setting, he didn’t seem as relaxed as usual, or maybe I was projecting my own nerves onto him.
I was anxious to tell him about the baby. I was pretty sure he’d be happy, but it was still big news, unexpected news. News that I’d known for weeks and hadn’t shared with him.
“How andwhereare Bacon and Biscuit?” I asked before taking a bite.
“They’re good. I left them with the dog sitter so we could have some uninterrupted alone time.”
I nodded, trying to reassure myself that I had nothing to worry about. Frasier loved me, and I loved him. We would figure the rest out—together.
“Did you have a good visit with Allie?” he asked, and it felt as if we were both dancing around the topics we really needed to discuss.
“I did.” I smiled, toying with my friendship bracelet, the one Frasier had sent me. “Though it’s good to be home. Or in Anguilla, as it were.” I gestured to our surroundings.
“I would’ve taken you to the real Anguilla if we’d had time.”
“I don’t know.” I glanced around, taking it all in again. I realized the pergola was meant to mimic the cabana. It was our own private paradise, and the fact that he’d gone to so much effort made it even more meaningful. “This might be even better.”
He smiled, but it didn’t quite reach his eyes. And I hated the uncertainty I saw there. I hated that I’d made him question my feelings for him or our future together.
“But maybe we could go back to Anguilla,” I said. “After the season’s over.” Would I even be able to fly at that point?
He nodded. “I’d like that.”
We were both in our heads. Both walking on eggshells. If Frasier and I wanted to go back to Anguilla, back to that time of ease and connection, I knew what needed to be done.
“Truth or dare?” I asked, trying to keep the mood light even as I eased into a heavier conversation.
He sighed. “I’m not sure I’m in the mood to play games. To be honest, Bryn, I’ve been wanting to?—”
“Please?” I pleaded, interrupting him. “Just humor me.”
He grinned, the expression both wary and indulgent all at once. “Fine. Truth.”
“Do you still want to move in together?”
He tilted his head, evaluating me. And then he leaned back in his chair, dragging his hand through his hair. “Yes, but only if it makes sense for both of us. I’m sorry if I pushed for too much, too soon by suggesting that we move in together.”
“Thank you,” I said. “And I’m sorry if I made you question my love for you or my commitment to this relationship by asking if I could think about it.”
