Page 80 of His North Star
“Well then, how about a few for now?”
I sighed as if it would bother me. “I guess.”
“You’re loyal, sweet like honey, but can handle anyone’s sass, which you yourself possess a bit of, and caring. No one else would put up with me for as many years as you have.”
“Thank you, Ty.” I squeezed his knee. “I’m relieved my relationship with Blake ended. That’s not what I’m sad about. I’m more angry with myself for not seeing his lies earlier. For feeling like I’ll never be good enough and no one will ever want me. I feel stuck and small and worthless. What Blake said wasn’t true, but it’s taking me longer than I thought it would to get his words out of my head.”
Hopefully, after tonight, I’d be able to put my ex behind me once and for all.
“I hate that you feel that way. How can I help?” he asked.
“You’re already doing more than you know. Just keep being you, and eventually I’ll be all right.” I wrapped my arm around his torso and squeezed. “Enough about me. Did you officially break it off with Lys? You’ve been so busy with the house you haven’t mentioned much of anything else.”
“After putting my big boy undies on”—he chuckled—“I did.”
I sat up, looking into his eyes. “How’d she take it?”
“She was delighted,” he deadpanned.
“Yeah, that was a dumb question on my part.”
“I shouldn’t have taken so long to do it. That was on me.”
“But now you’re a free man,” I hedged. “You’ll be back out there in a jiffy.”
He nudged my side, pointing to a shooting star. It raced across the sky, flashing its brilliance before dying out. Just like the time with James at the dock. The night he saw one and said he’d made a wish. That star represented my relationship with James. Fast, bright, and over.
“Nah. I want to be ready for that other woman I told you about,” he said.
Ah, yes, his secret crush. “Who is she?”
“Not someone available at the moment. Hey, maybe we should make a pact,” he said nonchalantly.
We hadn’t made a pact since elementary school when he promised not to tell anyone that I cheated off Lana Davis’s math test. “What do you have in mind?”
He picked at the corner of the blanket. “What if we’re both still single, say at. . . thirty-two, we get hitched?”
Thirty-two was a little young to marry out of desperation. Although, let’s be honest, with my track record, it was the safest bet I’d make. Could our arranged marriage be real in every way that counted?
We had the friendship part down. We made great partners too. But what about the physical side? A marriage withoutthatwould be. . . unfulfilling. I loved kisses and snuggling. Would I be happy without them? Heaven knew my body wanted Ty, but what if he didn’t reciprocate?
“You’d really want to marry me? You’d have to kiss me, you know. Can you deal with that? Because if you tell me after we exchange vows that it felt like kissing your sister, I’ll take all your money and run,” I warned.
“Like a sister?” He looked at me, a teasing glint in his eye. “Are your kissing skills that awful?”
“I don’t think so. . .”
He smiled at me flirtatiously. “Only one way to find out.”
“When we’re getting hitched?”
He shrugged, a sly grin on his lips.Or sooner, he seemed to say.
“Ty?” I struggled to breathe.
“Yeah?”
“You’ve got a deal. I’ll marry you when we turn thirty-two.”
