Page 129 of Renegade Rift

“Juliet. If you have something planned, let me know. One hundred, one hundred, remember? I could have easily come home sooner if I had known you had all this set up for us.” Her brow tightens for a moment, then softens, and I wish I could be a fly on the wall in that brain of hers. I take a step forward and survey the table. She’s got every type of chocolate and marshmallow imaginable. “That being said, I'm not terribly hungry for a full meal.”

“I figured, which is why I shifted gears, and we’ve got a s'mores bar for dessert.”

I look over my shoulder and smirk. “Did Soph tell you s’mores were my favorite?”

“She might have mentioned it. And I made gluten-free graham crackers that surprisingly don’t taste like cardboard.” A delicate pink creeps over her cheeks as she looks away to hide her thoughtfulness.

Well, that just won’t do.

I eat the space between us in three steps and lift her chin with my thumb and forefinger. “You’ve thought of everything.”

Her eyes dart anywhere but where mine are and I get the feeling, that even though I’ve done nothing but praise her since finding her, this is different. She’s putting herself out there. It’s intimate. Vulnerable.

God, I am so fucking proud of her.

“And tell me, love. What comes after dessert?”

“Presents,” she whispers.

“You got me something?” Shock laces my words. It’s been a long time since someone has gone out of their way to get something for me. Sure, Soph remembers birthdays, and the guys got me a naked cleaning lady—which was just as much for them as it was for me—but overall, random gifts are not a common occurrence. Not since my mom passed.

Juliet steps back and reaches behind the couch, pulling out a little black gift bag that has bright orange tissue paper sticking out of it.

Fuck, it’s even the colors of the Renegades.

The attention to detail she’s put into this date floors me.

And then, just as quickly, guilt wracks me to my core.

I can’t do this. I can’t let her take care of me and plan this whole night under the pretense that outside these four walls, our happiness isn’t under attack.

“Ford?” She steps forward and grabs my forearm.

My eyes meet hers, full of warring apprehension and desire. “Juliet, I think we should talk.”

Her lips pull into a tight smile, and she gives a curt shake of her head. “I already know about it.”

“You do?”

She nods. “Paige sent me the article the second she saw it.”

Dropping her hand, she turns and sets the present on the back of the couch, running her hands over the soft blanket draped over the top.

“And?” My question is one word, filled with as much hope as it is dread.

“I didn’t read it.”

“You didn’t?” I don’t understand.

“Nope.” She spins around and clasps her hands matter-of-factly in front of her stomach. “I’ve decided we’re not going to think about it tonight.”

My brows reach my hairline. “We’re not?”

How the hell are we supposed to manage that? I know selfishly I said that’s exactly what I wanted—one more night—but there’s no way the weight of the article won’t creep in. I didn’t even last ten fucking minutes before circling back to the worry coiling in my chest.

Juliet lifts her chin and straightens her spine. “I’ve been excited about tonight all week. I’ve prepped and planned. Showered and shaved. And while doing all that, I’ve thought long and hard about everything that’s happened between us since you came into my life.”

“And?”

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