Page 58 of The Kiss Countdown

“My family likes you,” Vincent says. “Don’t be surprised if Camille starts calling you up every weekend for coffee to exchange insults about me.”

I crack one eye open and look at him. The idea of airing my grievances or insulting him doesn’t seem as fun as it would have a few weeks ago. “I don’t think you have to worry about that,” I say softly. “Anyway, I’m not sure if all of your family likes me. Actually, there’s a tiny chance I’ve made things more difficult with your mom.” I hold my thumb and index finger close together.

“What happened?”

“She was talking about you putting your life at risk and all the other things you could be doing, and in not so many words I said her lack of support was driving you away.” I sigh. “I’m sorry. I know it wasn’t my place to get between you two, but...” I don’t know how to finish the sentence. Tell him that I want his mom to acknowledge the sacrifice he’s making? To realize it takes a special human being to take all the risks he’s willing to in hopes of forging a better future? I already feel foolish after trying to get him to lie down with me. I need to hold on to my self-preservation before all my defenses against him are gone.

Vincent rubs the back of his neck. “A lot of the decisions I’ve made in life haven’t been easy for my mom. This one especially. But thank you for trying to make her see things from my point of view. It’s crazy that I’ve only known you for such a short amount of time, but you understand me more than she has in over thirty years.”

“I think she really does want what’s best for you, but a lot of her concern comes from the fear that you’ll end up like your brother.”

The words leave my lips, and Vincent looks like I’ve ripped a sledgehammer through his heart. I brace myselffor him to shut me out like he did his mom on the hike. But he surprises me.

“My brother died in a helicopter crash,” he says quietly. “A crash that should have been prevented. We always used to fly together, or at the very least, check each other’s aircraft before we left. Even though he was my big brother, I looked out for him in a lot of ways because he was often impatient and rushed things.” He shifts so he’s on his back, staring at the ceiling. “The morning he was flying out, I got there a little later than usual. Right as I was about to do a walk around, I got a call from my fiancée.”

While I’m positive I make no outward response, the wordfiancéejolts through me, and I’m assaulted by a slither of jealousy I have to immediately wrangle in. A large part of me is dismayed that Vincent is only now telling me he was engaged before, though I know the revelation shouldn’t surprise me. He’s had enough time to finish school and explore multiple careers before ever meeting me. Of course he would have had his future planned out with some woman once upon a time. Yet, as I’m learning about his life growing up here, learning about the brother he lost, learning about the fiancée he must have loved, I want to know even more.

“I don’t even remember what the call was about. But I answered it. When we hung up, Tay said everything was good to go, and we made plans to meet up the next day. Then I got a call from my dad that the helicopter went down and Tay was gone.” He covers his face with both hands like he can’t bear to think about that day. “There’s this tightening in my gut that’s been there since the second I got the news. And when I’m here, back home, surrounded by all our best memories, it’s like I’m being crushed from the inside out over and over again.”

Oh, Vincent. My soul aches for him and the grief he’s gone through. That tightening is all too familiar; it’s there when I think of losing my mom. As scary and anxiety-inducing as it is to me, he’s lived with it nonstop. His whole family has.

I can’t hold back. I inch toward him and wrap my arms around his middle, laying my head on his shoulder to offer whatever comfort I can. “I’m so sorry.” They’re the only words I have, and they feel vastly inadequate for the heartache I know he’s suffered through.

“I honestly don’t know if my checking the helicopter would have made a difference, and I never will. But I can live every day in part to honor him and the spirit for adventure we always shared, even if it breaks my mom’s heart.”

We don’t say anything else. We lie on the bed with only the sputtering of the heater to ensure we’re not in total silence. As the seconds tick by, little by little, Vincent’s body relaxes, and I realize that sometimes more words aren’t necessary. He hugs me back, circling his arms around my back to pull me closer, and I don’t hold in the exhale that must give away how much I need this embrace, too. I don’t block out the invasive thoughts in the back of my mind saying how right this feels. But when there’s a knock at the door and Vincent draws away to answer it, I do mourn the loss of his warmth.

“Can we take a walk?” Mrs. Rogers’s voice says. She sounds upset.

Vincent’s shoulders rise up in a sigh. “Sure.”

After the closeness we just shared, I try not to let it get to me that he leaves without even glancing in my direction. Groaning, I flop back on the bed and stare up at the ceiling. What in the world am I doing? So far, all I’ve managed to do is get hurt, piss off Vincent’s mom, and makehim relive what had to have been the worst day of his life. He doesn’t deserve any of this. I wish I could take back the last ten minutes.

I close my eyes, unable to shake the feeling that I’m the worst person in the world. Without meaning to, I must doze off, because when I open my eyes again, it’s darker outside, and Vincent is pacing in front of the door.

I rise to my elbows. “What’s wrong? Does your mom want me to leave?” I wouldn’t be surprised if she did, though the thought of leaving now has my stomach in knots.

“No,” Vincent says, and I let out a slow breath. He stops pacing and looks at me. “She gave me my grandmother’s ring. She wants me to propose to you.”

Chapter Eighteen

Vincent resumes his pacing, showing all the agitation of a cornered bear. “Look, you don’t have to say yes. Mom’s out of her mind to even suggest it.”

If I wasn’t so stunned, I’d be agreeing with him. But my pulse is racing a million miles an hour and my stomach is cramping up. Vincent can’t mean put-a-ring-on-it propose or meet-me-at-the-altar-in-your-white-dress propose and surely not spend-my-life-with-you propose, can he? A hundred images of a hundred ways Vincent might drop to one knee zoom through my mind, and I grit my teeth to force them to stop. There’s no time for ridiculous daydreams when what I need are answers.

I slowly make my way to him, stopping an arm’s length away so he doesn’t bulldoze right over me as he treks from wall to wall. “Vincent, please calm down and tell me exactly what happened.”

Thankfully, he’s not so far gone that he doesn’t hear me. He stops in front of me and lets out a deep breath. “From what she’s seen, my mom thinks we’re perfect for each other. During her birthday dinner tomorrow night, she wants me to propose to you in front of everyone.”

Now it’s time for me to freak out. Balanced on my good foot, I almost fall over.

Vincent steadies me, holding on to my waist. Our eyes lock together, and I imagine we’re both trying to make sense of the new curveball that’s just been thrown into our already tenuous game.

“You should sit down,” Vincent says after a few heart-stopping moments.

I lean on him for the few steps it takes to reach the bed. “She wants you to propose at her birthday dinner? But she has to know that won’t stop you from going on your mission, right?”

“Amerie, I wish I could tell you what’s running through her mind. I made it clear my mission is my top priority. She said you helped her realize there’s no backing out, and that’s why you’re such a good match for me.”

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