Page 93 of Tell Me Again

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“On my drive back from Omaha, I tried to think through all the possibilities. What if I move here? What if you move there? Would I be able to find work here, or you there? What would you want to do if you weren’t working at the diner? If you, um...”

“If I wasn’t struggling financially and didn’t just need the job?”

I grimace but nod, and when I look up at him, he lowers his eyes to his partly eaten dinner—leftover stir fry from last night. His hair is still damp from his shower, and it falls down over his forehead in those messy curls that are just so distracting. That and the way he smells. Some mix of his shampoo and this deep, masculine scent that’s just... him.

It’s such a wonderfully intoxicating distraction. But all that’s for later. Later, after we’ve talked.

“Honestly, Coop...” He looks back up at me, and there’s a little pain in his expression. I shake my head. “I want to do whatever would make you happiest.”

He bites his lip but doesn’t say anything.

“And I realize this is, um, sort of everything all at once here, but—”

“I need you,” he cuts in. He sets his fork down, rests his elbows on the table, and then lowers his head into his hands. “I-I mean, I...I know it’s so fast. We just went on our first date yesterday, and—”

He runs a nervous hand through his hair and doesn’t quite look up at me. Yet I can feel his vulnerability, and it almost hurts.

“I love you,” he continues. “I always have. And I don’t want to spend another day without you or...”

I scoot my chair closer to his, even though we’d already moved them pretty close together when we first sat down a little while ago, and I set my hand on his thigh. “Or...?”

He blows out a shuddering breath and shakes his head. “Or be left here, wondering if... you’ll come back to me.”

A sharp pain stabs through my chest, and I immediately gather him up in my arms, awkward as it is with us both seated at the table. I kiss his cheek, even as I feel him shaking. My words come out in a rush. “I won’t do that again. I’ll always come back. Always. I love you. I’m so sorry.”

“I-I know, but it’s just . . .”

I nod, still holding him tightly to me. God, how I’ve screwed things up. I won’t let it happen again. I’ve already promised him. And I’ll tell him again. As many times as he needs.

The path forward suddenly seems clear to me. I rub his back gently and brush another kiss on his cheek. “You said you’re off this upcoming Monday and Tuesday?”

“Um, yeah. Mel’s gotta go to Kansas for some family shit, and the diner’s going to have to shut down after lunch, which is when my shifts were supposed to be.”

I sit up and take his hands in mine. Then I bring one of his hands up and kiss his knuckles. He closes his eyes with a quiet sigh.

“Come with me to Omaha?” I say. And then I start into some long-winded ramble that may or may not really make much sense. “We can leave Sunday after your shift is over. Then you can help me pack up my stuff, and I’ll move back here to be with you. I’ll—shit, I’ll have to give at least two weeks’ notice at work, but I’ll talk to HR, and I’m sure we’ll be able to figure something out so I don’t have to go in, or at least not more than just another short trip. Yeah. And then, um, I can find a place to rent or something in town here. Hopefully I’ll be able to get a job at the hospital. Or I could even open up my own practice. Whatever it takes to be here with you. And when we’re ready, we’ll make more long-term decisions and things...”

I pause, and he’s watching me now with a hopeful smile. Hopeful and gorgeous. I reach up with one hand and graze my fingertips along his cheek, and he closes his eyes again and leans into the touch. Warmth courses through me. Warmth and love and all these amazing emotions.

God, I do love him.

I clear my throat and try to finish my string of thoughts. “All that matters right now—all that’s ever going to matter—is that we’re together and...and that you know how much I love you.”

He breathes out what sounds like a light laugh, and his hand comes up to grasp my wrist, holding my hand to his cheek. “I love you, too. And, um, I...I think I like your plan.”

“Yeah?”

He bites his lower lip—and there’s this pulse of desire that jolts me because, god, that’s still just incredibly sexy—and then he nods as he draws me toward him for another kiss. It’s full of love and hope and promise—everything I know we’re both feeling. And when he pulls back a moment later, he’s nodding, and his eyes are bright and happy, matching his grin.

God, my heart.

“Yeah, yeah. It’s a fucking good plan,” he says. Then his grin turns silly. “You know, I’ve got a good plan too.”

“Oh?”

His hand drops down to my thigh and slides up toward my groin with this deliciously firm pressure, and I’m moaning as some aching need tugs at me. He laughs and silences my moan with a soft, teasing kiss.

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