Page 106 of Wish You Would

“Okay,” she said. “I forgive you.”

I launched into my spiel almost before she’d even finished speaking, the words coming out of me in one long string. “So, I know this is a little late, but I thought you deserved a date—a real one, not just practice. Because you’re not practice. And since this was the place we had our practice date, I thought we should have a real one here, too. And I—” My mouth snapped shut as my brain caught up to what she said. “What?”

Parker shrugged, that telltale curl falling over her shoulder. I wanted to twirl it around my fingers. I wanted to hear her say those words again.

“I forgive you,” she repeated, each word nestling against my heart like a trio of kittens, warm and soft. “Now, would you please kiss me?”

43

43 PARKER

I'LL BE

Gigi sat across from me, a plate of untouched pancakes in front of her and a dumbstruck look on her face. I reached for my water glass and covered my smile with it.

The silence while I ate had given me time to think. Time to absorb. Time to lay the facts out and examine them alongside the torrent of feelings rushing inside me. Somewhere around the second slice of bacon, it hit me: Gigi was Grand Gesturing me.

I hadn’t correlated the plot points of a romance novel to my relationship with Gigi until tonight, too lost in the heartbreak of it all to hope there was something more on the other side. The happy ending my resident romance authors had waxed on about. But now, with Gigi sitting across from me, bathed in the warm light from the over-the-top candelabra between us, I knew how this story was going to end:

Happily.

Gigi still stared at me, her brown eyes glowing nearly bronze in the candlelight. Poor girl had no idea what was going on. Clearly, she was prepared to grovel her perfect butt off, and I’d thrown a fork in the gears.

Putting my glass down, I shifted in my seat. She blinked, like a hypnotist’s experiment coming out of a trance.

“I’m sorry,” she said, a cute little wrinkle on the bridge of her nose. “For a minute there, I thought you said you forgave me?”

I pressed my lips together to keep from laughing. “Oh, yeah.” I shook my head and frowned. “You must’ve misheard me.”

She nodded, almost disguising the disappointment on her face. “I thought so. I mean, why would you say that when I haven’t even said I’m sorry yet? Not that saying sorry automatically means forgiveness. That’s not a guarantee. I just meant—”

“Gigi.”

She stopped talking, eyes finding mine. There was a deep flush staining her cheekbones, and her eyes sparkled with emotion. My heart swelled against my ribs. I love you, I thought. I love you, I love you, I love you.

“Sorry,” she said. “I’m a little nervous.”

I started to reach across the table for her hand, but the giant candelabra got in the way. Gigi winced as I slid it to the side. “Sorry,” she said. “It’s too much, I know.”

“It’s perfect.” I covered her restless hands with mine. It was the first time we’d touched in weeks. A glimmer of rightness ignited beneath my fingertips and my eyes flew to hers. The way her pupils dilated told me that she felt it, too. Holding her gaze, I turned her hand over and let our fingers tangle.

Silence fell over us then, and the space between us was charged with memory. With hope. With a delicate thread of optimism, golden and glittering as it tied our hearts together.

I found my voice first. “You were so good,” I said, “the other night. Like, I’ve seen you perform before, but that night…you were astonishing.” Shaking my head, I tried to put into words the things I’d felt, watching her onstage. My eyes burned as the emotions resurged. “All I could think was, I made the right choice. Leaving her was the right choice.”

“Parker—”

“I don’t think I was wrong.” She was going to protest. I could see it in her eyes. Reaching across the table, I pressed my finger to her lips for the second time that night. She stayed quiet. “If I had let you choose me, you wouldn’t have been on that stage. You know it’s true. I know it’s true. And it’s okay.”

I watched her thumb trace over the palm of my hand, leaving a trail of sparks in its wake. “I thought that was it. I tried really hard to convince myself that it was fine. That I was fine. But…” I shook my head, piecing the words together. “Everything happened the way it was supposed to.”

She frowned, confusion scrawled on her face. “But I hurt you.”

“I hurt you, too.” I squeezed her hand. “And it sucked. A lot.”

“I’m sorry.” She shifted in her seat, eyes narrowed. “I’m not following. Why was both of us getting hurt the way it was supposed to happen?”

“Because if I’d let you choose me that night, you would have never said yes to the band. And, if I had let you choose me, it would have been yet another decision made for me.” I pulled my hand from hers and wrapped a lock of hair around my fingers, twisting. “I had to take control of my life. You had to own yours. Otherwise, we’d have just been…” I trailed off, searching my brain for the right words. “Two half people searching for someone to make them whole.”

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