Page 68 of Raised On It

“Be right back.”

“Daaaaamn, girl,” Rachel says with dramatic flair. “I feel like I just watched a scene out of a movie. You’ve got him all spun up.”

“I don’t want to have him all spun up, Rachel,” I whisper-yell across the table. I’m just trying to avoid the inevitable.”

“You are insane, you know that, right?” Emmett questions me. “You’re a writer. Why not just move here and write while he runs the company and the farm? You can travel with him, and you’d have a pretty plush life.”

“I know I can write anywhere, but I’ve been the one to move before and look what it got me. Besides, I do just fine and live a pretty plush life all on my own. If I’ve learned one thing, it’s that I don’t need a man to take care of me.”

I can hear the bite at the end of my statement, but I am so tired of being toldI can write anywhere.

“No offense, sweetie. We just hate to see you go back to New York and most of all hate to not see things work out with the two of you. I didn’t mean anything by it.”

“I know you didn’t, Emmett. Sorry, it’s just a sensitive topic for me. Tonight is supposed to be all about Rachel and Reece anyway.”

“Yes, it is,” Reece says, taking Rachel’s hand and pulling her up from the table and her seat next to me. “They’re playing our song, babe. I’ll have her back in about three minutes.”

I’m watching them slow dance while Sam Hunt sings about cop cars when Rachel’s abandoned seat to the left of me is filled with a presence I know all too well.

His big hands carried two pitchers of beer in one hand and a margarita in the other. He places the beer in the center of the table, then slides the margarita in front of me.

“In case you change your mind.”

I can’t help but think he means more than just my drink.

He knows he isn’t playing fair by sitting next to me. Having him in my space like this is distracting, to say the least. We aren’t touching, but we’re close enough. The heat from his body is radiating off him, and his smell is infiltrating my senses. The Verdict suddenly feels stuffy, and without thinking, I slide my jacket off in the hopes I’ll be able to catch my breath again.

“You have got to be shitting me?”

Crap. I forgot why I wore the jacket.

“What’s wrong?” Amelia asks Miles from across the table.

“Oh, nothing, Melly. I was just reminded of something rather rudely, but I’m fine.”

Emmett and Amelia stay silent on their side of the booth, and Amelia can’t get out of the booth fast enough when Andrew arrives with his hand out dragging her away to dance.

“So, what’s happening? What are you guys all chatting about?”

I want nothing more than to escape or at least run to the ladies’ room for a second to collect myself, but that would mean asking him to move and having to slide past him, and I don’t feel strong enough at the moment.

Oddly, I wasn’t even strong enough to write in my journal after he left last night. I tried again today but just stared at the page. There has never been a time when I couldn’t get what I was feeling on the page. Not wanting to put the truth down on paper. Because the truth of the matter is, I’ve fallen in love with a beautiful, kind man, and I’ve ruined it before it even had a chance.

The booth is beginning to close in around me.

My stomach is sick with anxiety.

Breathing seems nearly impossible.

“Excuse me,” I say pushing on his arm. “I need to get out. Please move!”

“Mase, you okay?” There’s concern in his voice, but I don’t dare look into his eyes.

Clearly worried, he moves, letting me out of the booth.

Rushing to the bathroom, I can feel his eyes on me, burning my skin and taking away my ability to breathe. It isn’t until I close the big wooden door and cut off his view to me that I can take my first breath since he sat down next to me. The cool water rushing over my wrists calms me, if only the glimpse of the woman staring back at me in the mirror above the sink didn’t break my heart.

Not surprisingly, the door opens, and Emmett closes it behind her. Leaning against it, she looks at me with eyes full of pity.