Page 83 of Sugar

Instead, she looked panicked as she dropped her napkin on the table and stood. “Excuse me.”

The panic she felt shot through me, and I reached out to clasp her wrist before she could get far.

Before she could get away from me.

“Wait.” I stood and used my hold to tug her closer until she had to crane her neck to look at me. “You don’t have to decide right this second. Take a few days. Hell, take a week. Okay?”

She dropped her face and kept it down. “I’m just going to the restroom.”

I couldn’t stop myself from tightening my hold on her. If we were at Gilded, I would’ve used the cuffs that were attached to some of the tables and chairs to ensure she stayed. But we weren’t there.

And if she was telling the truth, torturing her when she had to use the bathroom wouldn’t help my case.

Grudgingly, I slowly released my hold. She spun, but I grabbed her hip to halt her again. That time, though, it was so she didn’t slam into the approaching server who carried a precarious tray full of food.

I tugged her closer, stopping just before she was pressed to my body and would feel the unmistakable effect she had on me. “Hurry back.”

She nodded without looking at me as she dislodged herself from my grip. I watched her speed away.

It doesn’t matter if she tries to leave.

I’ll just find her and bring her back.

Chapter 17

Implications

MADDIE

Here goes nothing.

Or everything.

Either way.

At the knock on my door, I rushed through the apartment.

I hadn’t seen Easton since our dinner on Wednesday. I hadn’t even talked to him until he’d texted early that morning to see if I was still open to attending Dave Augustian’s birthday with him. Otherwise—true to his word—he’d given me time to think about his proposal, and that was exactly what I’d done.

I’d thought.

And thought.

And overthought some more.

Honestly, it wasn’t his rules and guidelines I was struggling with. In a twisted way, I liked those. It wasn’t the financial aspect itself, either.

In an even more twisted way, I really liked that.

Andthatreaction was exactly the issue.

I wasn’t desperate for cash to keep the electricity running, put ramen on the table, or anything dire. I was insanely fortunate that my schooling had been paid for by my maternal grandparents. Any additional expenses were easily covered by my income from The Coastal Chronicle, savings from working with my dad in the summer and over breaks, and care packages from my mom.

I didn’tneedEaston’s money.

I didn’t even intend to spend any of it.

Yet every single time I started to text him about altering our terms to remove that piece, I hadn’t been able to hit send.

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