Page 71 of The Fiance Dilemma

“What’s in the kitchen, Josie?”

My eyes flickered up his face. No glasses today. “Nothing special besides the mess left after a failed dessert.” And the four hangers currently hooked to a rack in my pantry. “Why?”

“You’re stealing glances at the kitchen door. And you asked me to wait here. You said ‘please.’?”

“Just manners.” I stood up and walked to his end of the couch before retrieving the empty plate from him. “And the fact that I’m a thoughtful host who wants her guest to be comfy,” I added, stacking it on top of mine.

Matthew tugged at the hem of my cardigan, and I glanced down at his face. “You were wearing this the night I got here. After you changed.”

My heart skipped a beat. I made myself smile, but it was probably strained. “It’s my cozy cardigan. I wear it when the mood hits.”

“The mood,” he murmured. His thumb and index fingers moved around the fabric. I watched him shake his head as if making up his mind about something. “So is that what I am now? A guest?”

Here it was, then, the moment I’d been avoiding. The conversation we’d been tiptoeing around while we had his pie. The topic that had been keeping me awake at night, filling me with just as much anxiety as the fact that the whole town—my community, my father, my sister and my friend, the world—believed we were getting married on December first. Or how my reputation was now set in stone. Online, thanks to Page Nine. Confirming what everyone thought of me. All thanks to an anonymous editor’s submission.

“You should tell me what you are,” I finally said.

His brows met for an instant. But it wasn’t in confusion, I didn’t think. It was determination. Unlike me, Matthew never shied away from saying things like they were. “I’m Matthew. I’m your fiancé.”

Are those two things the same?I should have asked.

“Even after that night?” I said instead. “Even after everything that’s changed?”

Matthew came to his feet. “What has changed?”

The nearness of his body overwhelmed me. Like it had never before. In a good way. A way that made me want more. To tug at his sweater. Flick my fingers across his cheek. Hear his voice close, words falling on my ear. This was what I’d feared. “There’s a clip of me in a wedding dress, jaw slack and eyes crazy, as I run away from a beautiful yet packed winter wonderland ceremony.” I averted my gaze. “I go so far as to stomp on the bouquet. Even if accidentally. It was a beautiful one, and those flowers didn’t deserve that.”

Soft fingers touched my chin, pushing up. I met his gaze. “There was a waterfall, Josie.” His jaw clenched. “Right behind that fool. How could younotrun away like that? He couldn’t have known.”

He had known. But so had I. “My phobia didn’t fully kick in until that day. And I was convinced I could do it. Greg worked really hard at an eight-week plan to correct it with meditation. We were both sure it’d work.”

“You don’t correct a fear,” Matthew countered with a frown. “You change the fucking venue.”

“It was his dream to get married in a place like that.”

“His dream should have been getting married to you.”

I felt myself pale at his words, as if they had somehow opened my eyes to something I’d never seen. “Thank you,” I murmured. All thattendernessin my chest expanding, eating away at every ounce of space. “That’s a nice sentiment.”

He stepped a little closer, boots moving forward until he was occupying all of my space. “I’m not being nice.”

My eyelids fluttered shut at how good he felt standing so close. “Then what are you being? Because I thought you’d be in a panic, honestly. I thought—”

“I’m sorry, for one,” he said. And when I reopened my eyes there was something I didn’t like on his face. Something I hated seeing there. “I shouldn’t have pushed you like I did when you were very clear about not wanting to talk.”

I felt myself part my lips. “What? No. You have nothing to apologize for.”

“Then answer my question, please.” His Adam’s apple bobbed. “What’s changed? Because I need to know. I’ve given you space now, and I’m done doing that. I’m…” He let out a strange laugh. “I’m needy, I guess. I’m not cool enough to act like I don’t care, when I’ve been moping around. No. Fuck that. I’m cool enough to admit I have. I made a playlist. For the walks. There was more than one. I watched all the seasons ofBridgerton.And Christ, that show is so goddamn good. It made me cry several times. I want to read the books now.”

My lips twitched. I tried so hard to stop that, I really did, but I… God.

“You’re smiling, Josie. It’s beautiful.”

A small puff of air left me. “You made me a pie.”

No one baked for me. No one ever had. Not since Mom.

“A good fucking pie,” he added.

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