Page 19 of One Night Valentine

I know you didn’t. Thank you by the way. For today, I mean.

I smile at the phone.

You already thanked me three times today.

The bubbles pop up to let me know he’s texting me back.

Yeah, well, it meant a lot that you showed up. I know you’re busy.

He wasn’t lying when he said that people were going to be curious. I had two calls at the shop today and then one journalist stopped in wanting more details about our relationship. But I don’t regret going.

When I don’t respond, he sends another text.

So I booked a room but if you don’t want me there, I won’t go.

I start typing, stop and then start again.

The agreement was one night. I think if we do more than one night, it’s going to get confusing.

Bubbles appear and then they disappear. Seconds later, my phone rings, and it’s Cruz’s name on the caller ID.

Hesitantly, I answer. “Hello.”

His smooth voice comes over the line. “Hey, Tara.”

“Hey,” I croak and then clear my throat.

“So I don’t want this to be confusing or to make this hard on you. But I want to be there.”

I laugh because there’s no way this man wants to go to a rehearsal dinner. “You want to go?”

“Yes,” he says firmly. “Look, I don’t like that your family disapproves of your job or that everyone is just acting like it’sokay that your sister is marrying your ex-boyfriend that cheated on you. I want to be there for you.”

“It’s going to be awkward.”

He’s quick to respond. “I can handle awkward.”

“People are going to talk about us.”

He chuckles. “Please, they can say what they want to about me. I don’t care.”

“But—”

He cuts me off. “Are you trying to talk me out of this?”

I grip the phone a little tighter. “I just want to make sure you know what you’re getting into, that’s all.”

He blows out a breath. “Look, I know this is supposed to be one night. Neither one of us wants this to be anything more—it can’t be, right? There’s so many reasons why this won’t work.”

Before I can ask him what those reasons are, he keeps going. “But if you’re there, I want to be there.”

Already, I can feel myself falling for Cruz, and I know that’s a bad idea, so I try again to dissuade him. “You don’t have to come.”

“I want to,” he states matter-of-factly.

“Okay, if you’re sure. I’ll send you over the times for the party and everything, and Cruz, I really do appreciate this.”

He groans. “You don’t have to thank me.”

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