“I thought you’d be getting ready for tonight.”

I nod and turn back to the assortment of clothing and accessories spread across the room. “That was definitely the direction I was going in, and then...”

“Then what?”

“There are so many options. I mean, do I go with a dress? If I do, should it be short, long, or midi? And what level of fancy are we talking? Because I now own several evening gowns,” I say. “Not something I thought I would ever say. One may even qualify as a ball gown.”

“Hmm.”

“But wait, because then there’s the shoes to consider. And bags and jewelry, and the list goes on and on.” I take a breath, not that it helps. “Your face is very serious, Ali. What’s on your mind apart from my failure to get my act together for dinner?”

His gaze jumps to the ring on my finger and his brow furrows. Which is telling.

“Here.” I wiggle the diamond off my finger. “You should put this somewhere safe.”

He takes the ring and slips it into his pocket without comment. “We don’t have to go out.”

“Don’t you want to go out?”

He just shrugs. As if it means nothing. A heck of a change in attitude.

“Talk to me.”

“This is just... It’s all happening rather quickly.”

Not going to lie. His words hurt. But on the other hand, he has a point. It’s almost a week since we met, and here I am, making myself at home. “Do you need some breathing room?”

“No,” he says with no hesitation.

This is a tricky situation. I have a sneaking suspicion his abandonment issues are butting heads with his whole lone-wolf/man-of-few-words aesthetic. Usually at this point I might spiral into a one-girl pity party. But the clock is ticking. I don’t have time for that shit. Not when it does me no good.

I lean against the door frame opposite him and give him my best supportive smile. “We’re not really engaged. That was just some nonsense spun by your mother to mess with the princess, right?”

“Right.”

“And you want me here, but you’re not used to having people all up in your personal space, are you? The question is, which side is going to win?”

His lips flatline.

“We never did get around to discussing your rules for dating. You know, the ones Shane mentioned,” I say. “Care to give me a brief rundown?”

“I’d prefer not.”

I just wait.

He turns away for a moment. “I don’t usually encourage the people I’m seeing to hang out here.”

“It’s more of a come-and-go situation, huh? How do you get them to leave?” I ask, curious. “What do you say?”

“Lilah...”

“Tell me.”

“I don’t know. I tell them I have work to do,” he finally admits. “It’s usually the truth.”

“But you want me here because you’re worried I’ll do something stupid. Like go swimming with sharks or tap-dance on the highway.”

“Yes,” he says in a low and reluctant voice. “But it’s more than that.”