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“Well, what do you think?”

“What is all this?”

He takes my hand again and brushes my knuckles with his thumbs. A tingly sensation shoots through my body.

“I told you I would try, Raven.”

If this is him just trying, then Lord help me. It may not seem like much, but this is

Mr. I-Don’t-Do-Romance here. He leads me to the blanket and I sit as modestly as I can. After dropping down next to me, he lifts the stainless steel food cover with a smile.

“I hope you’re hungry.”

Lobster and shrimp linguine, garlic bread, crackers, cheese, cold cuts, a fruit platter, and chocolate cake. There’s a bottle of sparkling cider chilling in a champagne bucket. It’s like a mini-feast. My stomach rumbles.

“Starving.”

“Dig in, doll.”

We eat in silence until I think I’m about to go crazy. This is new for him, but guilt is quickly eating away at my sanity. Do I tell him now or wait until after dinner?

“How was your day?” I ask instead.

“Good.”

He opens the bottle of cider, pouring two glasses.

“Did some work. Hung out with E.”

“That’s nice.”

“You?”

I accept the glass he offers and brace myself. “Same. Did some chores. Hung out with Chris.”

I didn’t expect him to say ‘that’s nice.’ The angry stare? Yes. That I did expect.

“What did you do?”

“Nothing. Talked.”

“Did you break up with him?” he asks.

“No.”

“Why the hell not?”

“He...he told me he loves me,” I stammer.

“I see. So I guess he stays. What are you going to do? Keep both of us around?”

Why is this so hard? If it’s the right thing it should be easy, right? I can’t even look him in the eyes.

“No.”

He chuckles, but it’s a mirthless one.

“Why did you come here, Raven?”