Page 79 of Wild Love

The air whooshed out of Chance's chest. "Wow."

"Don't worry. She doesn't want the same." There was nochance she would commit to me like that. It was a matter of time before she left, and I'd be heartbroken.

"You need to tell her how you feel."

Mac said the same thing. "I've thought a lot about this. What if it just pushes her away more? What if she sees me as no different than you or your parents?"

"That's a possibility, but you won't know if you don't talk to her. What if she leaves without you admitting your feelings? You'll regret it."

Chance's radio crackled, and the dispatcher called out. "I've got to go. We'll talk about this later."

Chance walked out, but I couldn't get up. I sat in my office chair and watched as the sky outside my window got darker and thought about what I was going to do.

But there was no question. When she wanted to leave, I'd have to let her go.

That night, I'd invited Scarlett over for dinner at my place. She'd mentioned how we never hung out here in my space. We had made love that one night. But I wanted her to feel special. I hadn't purposely kept her from my condo, and I didn't want her to think I had.

I cooked lasagna and garlic bread, confident I wouldn't screw it up. This was the meal I made for my brothers when we were kids. Mom taught me how to make it, and it was something that was hearty enough for everyone.

When the knock sounded on my door, I rolled up my sleeves and opened the door.

There was something about ending my day with her. I pulled her into my body and kissed her, pouring my feelings into that one move.

"That's quite the greeting," she murmured when we came up for air.

There were red roses in the middle of the counter. "These are for you."

Scarlett rounded the island, admiring them. "They're gorgeous."

"We can put them in your place if you want, or you can stay here with me."

"Are you asking me to move in with you?"

"I just want to spend as much time together as possible. We spend each night together anyway."

Scarlett smiled. "That makes sense."

It was a practical decision, but I wanted assurances that she wouldn't leave. But she didn't give me any. It hurt, but I expected this.

I plated the lasagna and placed the bread in the middle of the dining-room table.

I'd dimmed the lights and lit candles. Soft music played over the speakers.

"This is romantic," Scarlett said as I pulled out the chair for her to sit.

There was a fire already crackling in the hearth. "I suppose it is."

"Are we celebrating anything?"

I poured two glasses of red wine. "Maybe the performance?"

She smiled softly, her face illuminated by candlelight. "But we haven't done that yet."

I gestured between us. "We can celebrate us. Who knew this would happen when you came home?"

"I sure didn't." Scarlett chuckled softly as I sat next to her. The table was long and meant for my huge family. I wanted this to be intimate. I didn't want Scarlett to avoid us any longer.

Should I tell her how I felt tonight? Would it make a difference, or would she still leave when the time came?

---