Page 112 of My Infatuation with Isabella

“Okay.” He reaches for the piece of paper again. “That was rough, so I’m glad there’s only one more.” He takes a deep breath before he reads it. “What happened at the shelter today? Uh...that kid does something to me. He’s the reason why I don’t go there. I can’t take looking at him. I don’t know if Dana told you, but his mom, Katrina...she’s only fifteen, and she comes from an abusive home, so she ran away...to protect him. She chooses to live at the shelter because she thinks it’s thebestplace for them. Imagine how bad things are if the shelter is the best place she could think to take him.” He sneers, shaking his head. “For some weird reason, from the second I laid eyes on him, I felt this compelling urge to – I don’t know – keep him safe...Then today, I saw you with him and...and it’s just something I didn’t want to see. It felt like a glimpse of a potential future...because you holding him just looked...right.” He reaches up to stroke my cheek. “But, Bella, I am nowhere near ready to even start exploring that option because I know what it entails. That is a twenty-four-seven responsibility. I can’t fuck up once. There’s no room for error. All it takes is one second, one moment of weakness for everything to change. If we had a kid and something had to happen to him...” He shuts his eyes as if trying to rid himself of the thought. “I don’t know what I want yet. In a year or two, I may decide that I don’t want to take on that kind of responsibility, and I need to know if you’re going to be okay with that decision.”

After everything he’s told me, I fully understand his reservations and fears. In fact, a part of me feels the same way. “There’s no pressure to set anything in stone now. Having kids is not a necessary part of adulthood. This is a big decision, and we’ll make it when we’re both ready.” I smile at him. “Besides, you’re talking about kids. We haven’t even gotten to date five yet. This has been a very emotionally taxing night, so let’s stop overthinking and take it down a notch.” I shift off him, lie down beside him, then tug his arm until he lies down as well.

“You’re right.”

He lets out a heavy breath and allows the tension to deescalate. He turns onto his side, propping himself on his elbow. He lightly runs his fingers over my palm as we talk about all sorts of random things. I purposely try to keep the conversation light. The way we talk is a little different now. It just seems open, like there are no barriers between us. We talk about whether aliens exist and if they do, why would they be green? That ridiculousness lasts for almost an hour. We move on to life after death and soulmates. Somehow that conversation leads back to us.

“So, I’ve been thinking,” I say. “What if we scrap date five?”

“No, let’snotscrap date five. I was trying to tell you earlier that I already have something planned. It’s your birthday this weekend, so...let’s go out for pizza.”

I know I’m going to sound like a brat, but really? “That’s the best you can do? Pizza? For my birthday?”

“Yeah, we can go toPiatto Pieno.”

“The family restaurant? Please don’t splash out on my account.”

“Not our one.” He flops over onto his stomach to look down at me. “The one in New York.”

That gets my attention and I bite my lip to contain my excitement. “You want to go to New York for the weekend? Just hop on a plane and?”

“I was thinking a private jet.”

My eyes almost pop out of my head. “Geez, De Lorenzo. How rich are you?”

“Rich, but notthatrich,” he responds with a chuckle. “Pete’s dad is a movie director. He has one because he travels between locations a lot. I’m sure he’ll let me borrow it for the weekend. We’ll probably be exhausted, but I’ll have you back before work starts on Monday. I’ll ask Damon for your third afternoon off so you can catch up on sleep. What do you say?”

I don’t even have to think about it. “Yes!”

This is why Dylan and I have always just clicked. He is game for anything at the drop of a hat. No plan. He just throws caution to the wind, and I love that about him.

“So, does that mean we have to wait for the actual date to make this official?” I ask.

“What?”

“Us...You and me? Going steady?”

His eyebrows scrunch together. “Going steady? What is this? A nineties teen movie?”

“Would you prefer the term courtship, my king?” I ask in my old English accent.

“Nope! I would not. Why are you even asking me this? I’ve been ready to commit since Christmas eve. It was you who needed convincing. Also, can you stop trying to give us a label? I don’t need it. What I need isyou– body, mind, and soul. Give me that.”

I don’t know if I’m still so pumped about going to New York or if he’s somehow rewired my body in a way that my hormones respond to cheese now, but that comment gets me so flustered that I feel my whole face heat up. “It’s like you want me to just throw myself at you.” I push him over onto his back, then straddle his hips. “Here I am, trying to have some semblance of self-respect, but then you go and say shit like that, and the ho in me comes out. It makes me wanna strip off my T-shirt.” I do just that and toss it on the floor.

He chuckles, the flicker in his eyes a mixture of amusement and lust. “And what if I told you that these last three weeks made me realize that I don’t want to spend one day without you?”

I gasp dramatically. “Would you look at that? Bra comes off.”

I reach behind my back to unclip it, then pull it down my arms, leaving me in nothing but my panties. He sucks in a sharp breath, taking in the sight of me. “Shit!” he says with a playful laugh. “It’s like Spring break up in this place.” He cups my breasts with both hands, and I feel him hardening between my legs. “And what if I told you that I love you more than life itself?”

“Well, then I’ll have to take off my panties because they’re sopping wet now.”

His amusement and lust go up in equal measure when I get off the bed and slowly drag my panties down my legs. His fists clench as he battles for control when I climb on top of him again.

“God, you’re beautiful.” His index finger slowly traces a path down my chest to my stomach. “Every inch of you. Every imperfection just makes you more perfect. This little mole right here.” His thumb strokes over the tiny mole just above my navel. “And these little dimples on your thighs...And this pooch on your stomach...And your fat ass issofat. Iloveevery inch of you.”

I scoff. “Oh, slut mode activated.”

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