Page 53 of Deliah
“And if I say no?”
“Then I go,” he said simply. “But I’ll still send the flight info. Just in case.”
I stared at him—steady, calm, devastating.
“You do realise how insane this sounds, right?” I asked, quieter now. “We haven’t even… This is the first time we’ve seen each other in months.”
“And yet,” he said, “you still came.”
The drive back was quiet. Not awkward—just heavy, like both our brains were buffering. He walked me to the door later like a gentleman dipped in sin. The night was cold, but he was warm beside me. The kind of warmth you want to fall into and get lost in. He kissed my cheek, slow and deliberate, like it was a promise he hadn’t said aloud yet.
“I’ll text you the flight info,” he murmured. “Think about it.”
Then he got in his car and drove off—just like that. No big speech. No pressure. Just an offer and a plane ticket. I stood there—six-inch heels sinking into my porch, dress clinging to my skin, twenty-two roses in my arms—wondering…What if this wasn’t reckless? What if this was my chance to finally be chosen properly?
Chapter 20 –
Packing the Chaos
As soon as I got home, Cherry was already ringing. Obviously.
“Right,” she said the moment I answered. “Spill. All of it. Every detail. Don’t you dare skip the spicy bits.”
“There were no spicy bits,” I groaned, flopping onto my bed with a dramatic sigh. “Unless you count the duck confit.”
“Ooh, fancy.” I could hear her grinning through the phone. “Come on, what did he say? What did you say? Did he finally admit he’s obsessed with you? Did you sit on his face?”
“Jesus, Cherry!”
“What? I’m just trying to cut to the good bit.”
I sighed, flipping onto my back. “Okay. So. We talked, we ate, we flirted. Then he tells me he’s moving to Marbella next week.”
“Duh,” she said. “I live with Tommy, remember? You think I don’t hear every time those lads book a flight or forget to flush?”
“Okay, fine,” I said. “But then he asked me to come.”
“Stop,” she gasped. “No. Fucking. Way.”
“Yeah. Like… full-on ‘come with me, stay at mine, I’ll take care of you until you figure stuff out’ vibes.”
“Deliah.”
“I know.”
“DELIAH.”
“I know.”
I could almost hear her pacing. “Do you know what this means?”
“That I should probably pack my SPF 50?”
“That me and you could be day-drunk, poolside in the Marbella heat, laughing at all the stupid shit the boys say, and making men cry in broken Spanish!”
I bit my lip, smiling despite myself. “That does sound fun.”
“You’re damn right it does. Babe, imagine it. Us. In bikinis. Cocktails at noon. Chaos by night. We’d be iconic.”
