Page 133 of Mr. Wicked

Things I now associated with Jovana.

Either this had been just a place for her to crash or Jovana hadn’t developed her own sense of style until after she had moved out.

I took a seat on the bed while Ernie positioned himself in the chair in front of her desk. My hands folded in my lap, my lips parted, waiting for the right thing to say, planning how to best approach this.

It didn’t matter how many times I’d rehearsed the words in my head or how I’d discussed it with the guys, which was supposed to help me lead up to this moment.

I’d forgotten everything—everything I’d planned to say, everything they’d coached me on.

And staring Ernie in the face, knowing the circumstances that surrounded Jovana and me, the revelations we’d recently had in our relationship, the contract that was still signed, the requirements that were necessary—those made it even harder.

My hands were sweating.

My feet were tapping the floor.

My heart was fucking racing.

“I have a feeling I know what this is about.” He made a noise that sounded like a half cough, half clearing of his throat.

Taken aback by his comment, I said, “You do?”

“I saw the way you were looking at my daughter and the way she looks at you. I’m no dummy. I know what comes next, and given that I was once your age and felt the same way about my Caroline, I can say I’ve been in your shoes.”

But he hadn’t really.

He saw signs, I could agree to that.

But did he see the fear?

The apprehension?

The fact that I had no choice but to marry his daughter?

“Ernie ...” I couldn’t sit in this man’s house and lie to him. I couldn’t look into his eyes and feed him bullshit. He deserved respect and I was going to give it to him. “You’re right. I asked to speak to you because I want to ask your permission to marry Jovana.”

“But?”

I felt my forehead wrinkle. “Why do you say that?”

“Because I feel a but coming. Am I wrong?”

I shook my head. “No.”

“Explain yourself.”

My pulse was beating even faster.

This was when I was either going to make him understand or ruin any hope for a relationship.

“I’m not sure I’m ready for marriage—I know that sounds strange, given what I just asked you. I want to be with her. I want to take care of her. I want to promise her things I haven’t even thought of yet.”

He smiled, air slowly leaving his nose, whistling as it came out. “Like I said, I’ve been in your shoes.”

“You had doubts?”

“I was a lot younger than you when I proposed. Nineteen compared to, what, you’re around thirty, I’m guessing?”

I nodded.

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