He slowed to a walk and sent up a silent plea he could find the right words to convince her to give him another chance. “You can put some of that in my car.”
She turned, her eyes flaring with hurt. “Please, don’t help me anymore. You’re making this harder for me.”
“No, what I mean…” He stopped in front of her, looking down at her sweet, expressive face. A face he wanted to see every day, forever. “What I mean is, where you go, I go. Well, that is, if you’ll have me.”
With a quick shake of her head, Layla dropped the bag she’d been shoving into the trunk at her feet. She planted a hand on her hips. “I won’t. We’ve discussed this. You can never give me what I need. The next man I love will choose to share his life with me.”
“You love me?” She’d said it before; she’d said it just now in a roundabout way. But he needed to hear it again. Was it the forever kind of love, the fortieth-anniversary-kiss-on-the-lips kind? That’s what he needed to know.
“That’s irrelevant.”
Mrs. C. watched, her gaze volleying back and forth between them. “I’ll go check the pool house. Make sure nothing was forgotten.”
Layla pointed at Mrs. C. Odd, because she always spoke of and with reverence to the older woman. “No, we can’t fit anything else, and this conversation is just a rehash of the same one we keep having. Let’s just go.”
Mrs. C. flashed him an apologetic glance, then climbed into the passenger seat. Layla pushed the bag onto the housekeeper’s lap. “You’ll have to hold this.”
When she would have brushed by him to get into the driver’s seat, Jace snaked a hand out to capture her wrist. “Hang on a minute. Do you love me? You’re trustworthy. I know that about you, so you wouldn’t lie. Do you?”
“Damn you! Obviously, I do.” The tears in her eyes glinted in the sun. “Why do you need to drag this out? Why do you need to hear me say something that isn’t going to change a thing with us? Can’t you leave me some dignity? I’ve given you everything else.”
“Because I love you.” He moved his hands to rest on her hips, but didn’t dare pull her close. Not yet. This distance she’d have to close herself. “I love how incredibly, unfailingly real you are. Your vulnerability and then the monumentally brave way you face your fears. I love your resolve to do right by yourself. I’m learning from you. I love that, too. I can’t think of one damn thing I don’t love about you.”
The car door opened and shut, and the two of them moved their head in unison at the intrusion. Mrs. C. walked to them, slowly. “My girl tells me you don’t want to marry, ever, not to her, not to anyone. What do you have to offer her? Besides love. Love is only a word unless you’re willing to work for it, live for it, die for it.”
“Zia,” Layla whispered. “Please.”
“Ma’am, I respect you more than anyone I know, but you’ve got to let us work this out. No more outbursts from the audience, please.” Jace turned his attention back to Layla. “Marriage still scares the hell out of me. But marriage to you, I think, would be pretty great. In fact, the idea of spending my life with anyone but you scares me more.”
Layla put a hand on his chest and pushed gently. Jace took a step back, one awful step back, out of respect. She said, “Are you proposing? We’ve had all this out in the open, from the beginning, I’m a rest stop on your way through life and nothing more. I accepted that, but you’re being a little vague, and I need to know where I stand, right now. I need to know before you say any more pretty words that might mean nothing new.”
He turned, took a few steps away from the car, trying desperately to find the right words. “What I’m asking is you meet me halfway. I’m saying I want to marry you, but not yet. I want more time for us to get to know one another. To have real dates, where we’re not trying to pretend we’re in love, because we really are. For us to just be us.” He took a step forward. “And, after that, we’ll get engaged. And then we’ll plan a huge, beautiful wedding and you’ll become my wife.”
The tears finally spilled down her cheeks, and she lifted a hand to her mouth. Finally, she lowered it and cleared her throat. “You sure about that? Because if you’re not sure, you need to tell me. I trust you. So, just…tell me.”
“You can start a new list. Write down a man who loves you so much, it’s hard to breathe sometimes. Write down a man who makes things happen. Who means what he says. Do you know that about me?”
“I do.”
“Then get over here. Halfway, doll. That’s how we start forever.”
Layla launched herself over the concrete drive and into his arms. He lifted her off the ground and held her, like he wasn’t ever letting go. In fact, he intended to never let go again. “Forever?” he asked.
She kissed him passionately and pulled back breathlessly to agree, “Forever.”
About the Author
Lori Sizemore grew up in the mountains of West Virginia and never quite managed to escape them. Lori lives at home with her husband of twenty-plus years and two of her three daughters. She also lives with two dogs, a cat, and five hermit crabs. Yes, five of them. This menagerie and her family keep her busy.
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She worked in mental health as a social worker for ten years before making the choice to write full-time.
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