Page 122 of The Fiance Dilemma

“I’m saying that I’m a little tired of having strangers treat my life like it’s theirs to discuss. I’m saying that I trust you and I love you and I can’t think of anyone better to tell everyone the truth. I’m saying it’s no longer my story, that I’m no longer on my own when I’m with you because it’susnow. I’m saying Bobbi is partly right maybe,and this is the only way it’ll all be put to rest. And I’m also saying that I’ve already asked way too much of you, and I keep asking more, so if you don’t want to do this, I understand.”

Matthew kissed me again, a bruising press of his mouth against mine this time. “So you’re not pushing me away.”

“I don’t think I’m capable of that.”

His arms tightened around my back. “What do you suggest we do, then?”

We.

“We didn’t start this,” I said. “But we can decide how it ends.”

CHAPTER TWENTY-SEVEN

Matthew left North Carolina at dawn.

Cameron had dropped Adalyn off with Grandpa and me, and then booked himself on the same flight as Matthew.

The thought of him tagging along eased me. It made me a little less anxious as I counted down the hours to noon—whenFilthy Reali-Teawould be on air with the man I loved and had asked to tell the world every secret we have shared.

Time had trickled slowly, and although Adalyn had been around, Josie’s Joint remaining closed hadn’t helped. Not that the alternative was an option. I couldn’t face everyone without Matthew. It didn’t feel right. And he’d made me promise I wouldn’t. So I’d hung a sign and let everyone believe we were working through our feelings.

We were, in a way.

Because Matthew was going on that podcast to tell my story. Ours. And it filled me with as much relief as anxiety. I also had this gut-feeling, my gut-tummy-drop feeling, that something wasabout to go down. That whatever plans we’d spent making that night wouldn’t necessarily work. But it could be just my insecurities or fear talking. It could be just me.

Because I did believe that sometimes love was enough.

And some other times it conquered the world.

It depended on how much magic was in the air that day.

“Do you have any of those kale chips around?” Adalyn asked from the threshold of the kitchen. “I’m craving something green.”

“Huh. Matthew finished them.” Adalyn’s mouth fell. “But I have olives. Peas. Brussels sprouts?”

She sighed. “I’ll take the olives I think.” Her expression turned hesitant. “Are you doing good?”

“Yes. Absolutely. Just a little anxious. I wish I’d gone with him. He got all gruffy and scowly when I suggested it, and I conceded because I think a part of me was scared to go. But that was probably selfish.”

She padded the distance between us and gave me a squeeze. “You’re the best person I know,” she whispered before releasing me. “You’re not selfish. And there’s no way on earth that Matthew would have let you board that flight. Neither would Cam, actually. It’s been incredibly hard to keep him from stomping into Page Nine to take matters into his own hands all this time. I’m a little worried they secretly plotted doing that in fact.” She sighed. “So let’s just hope we don’t need to bail them out for something stupid tomorrow. Now tell me where the olives are, I’m getting cranky.”

I chuckled, although it came out a little strained. “Top cabinet, left.”

The doorbell rang and we separated, her disappearing into the kitchen and me jogging over to the door.

A set of blue eyes behind a stern expression welcomed me. “Oh,” I mumbled, surprised. “Hi, A—”

“I’m sorry,” he said. Or more like the words left him.

My body stumbled back a little, the weight of those two simple words hitting me harder than I expected. “That’s…” I swallowed. “Thank you.”

“You shouldn’t be thanking me.” Andrew shook his head. “Listen, I…” he trailed off for an instant, hesitating. “I don’t know how to do this. Any of this. I think it’s clear from the way I’ve acted. The truth is that I don’t know how to be around you. I don’t know whether you hate me or are skittish because you don’t trust me. But I do know I’ve done enough to deserve both. That’s why I’m here.”

I frowned, not really understanding what he referred to. There was so much to unpack. So much to ask and to say and to discuss. “I don’t hate you,” I told him. “But you’re right, I don’t trust you, either. Trust is something you earn. Not through video calls or turning a person into an agenda item, or unilaterally deciding you’re moving closer to them. And I… I wasn’t brave enough to say that earlier. But I am now.”

His expression opened up, as if finally receptive to what I was saying. Receptive to who I was.

“I wanted a relationship with you,” I continued. Embracing that surge of courage I’d found in my words. “I don’t blame you for the mess I made, and I also owe you an apology for lying. I’d love to say that it’s fine because it was well-intentioned. But it wasn’t. It isn’t fine, and while I have a lot of work to do on myself, I think you should also do that.” Emotion rose, attempting to clog my throat. I pushed through. “I wanted you, Andrew. As my dad. But I’m realizing you don’t owe me that. I’m wondering whether wanting that relationship was a mistake. I’m realizing I no longer want to bridge the gap to you. So until you decide to do that, I’m not sure I want to keep in touch with you. It’s… too much. And I’m sorry. But—”

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