Page 90 of Yes No Maybe

Jack apologized for the other night, and I understand why it was hard for him. But his words feel watered down, meaningless.Another day, another apology.Dean could be right—Jack might want me simply because he can’t have me.

But Dean’s words feel watered down, too.

Dean’s hand slips easily around mine as we approach the restaurant he’s picked for us. It’s a ritzy downtown bistro with linen tablecloths, tuxedoed servers, and a view of the rippling Cape Fear. I would’ve been happier somewhere quiet, even his place, where we could’vereallytalked, but Dean insisted on going out.

It’s a gorgeous night. With the sun setting behind the silhouetted peaks of the USS North Carolina across the river, orange beams add a gold tone to everything. We’re given a table in the corner, and Dean offers me the inner seat against the wall. Now, the dying sun warms my scars while keeping them hidden—a double-sided comfort.

His blue eyes sparkle in the sunlight. “Tell me what’s on your mind.”

I pull the engagement ring from my purse and set it on the table between us. “When you gave me this, I meant yes. Truly, I did. But that yes has wavered the longer you’ve been away, with every unanswered call or ignored text. You had no right to abandon me over one mistake. My mess-up was an accident, but you hurt me on purpose.”

He eyes the ring, forlorn and confused. “You’re right. I was angry. Everyone witnessed your uncertainty about me—I was so heartbroken and embarrassed.”

He leans forward, blue eyes landing softly on mine. “I’m sorry. For everything I put you through. Leaving wasn’t the right choice… Nothing was easy for me, either, you know. Working as a grunt on productions, twelve or thirteen-hour days, most of the time waiting, being yelled at by assistant directors itching to make a name for themselves… it was humbling. Exhausting. But I kept thinking about you, wanting to make you proud, wanting to come back to you a better man, and fearing that you’d end up thinking me a hack for trying—”

“Never. I never thought that. I still don’t.”

“I know, and your support has meant everything. What I’m trying to say is… you weren’t with me, but you were alwayswithme.” His eyes dart to the ring before fixing on mine again. “I want you with me forever, Rowan.”

My heart skips—a sudden, shocking putter that takes me back to the first time our eye contact lingered too long during play practice, our first touch when we traded scripts, and the night we stayed after practice long after the kids went home because we were too engrossed in conversation to call it a night. We fell for each other so sweetly, so honestly.That’s why I love Dean.

His hand slips over mine from across the table, stroking my fingers. Warmth rises with his touch. “I won’t make a big show of it, but please, wear the ring. Marry me.”

This is it—the redo I wanted. But once again, myyesgets caught in my throat. I long for the security I had with him before all this, but at the same time, I understand that it wasn’t real. How could it be? He doesn’t know me—I never gave him a chance to.

He picks up the ring and edges it closer, a soft but hopeful smile lifting his cheek.

My hand slips over his, pressing the ring to the table’s surface again. “Wait. There are things I need to—”

A shadow looms over our table, turning us toward a large man with a boyish grin.

“Hey, Dean.”

“Ryan!” He stands and greets him with a hug. “Rowan, this is my cousin Ryan. He’s thinking about subletting my condo. Ryan, this is my stunning fiancée, Rowan.”

He looks shy as he shakes my hand. “Nice to meet you finally. Dean talks about you all the time.”

I want to say the same, but Dean hasn’t mentioned him or subletting his condo. “Nice to meet you, too. What a coincidence.”

“Ryan recommended the place,” Dean says.

“I live nearby. Popped in for happy hour and carry-out.”

Standing side by side, Ryan is the spitting image of his cousin, only heavier.

“Wow, you guys could pass for twins.”

Dean laughs, play-punching Ryan in his stomach. “Until middle school, anyway.”

“Yep, I’ve always been more of a wide receiver than a cheerleader, like Dean here,” Ryan grins. The barman catches his attention, setting a to-go bag on the counter. “Ya’ll have a nice night. Good to meet you, Rowan.”

He heads to the bar for his takeout. Watching his thick fingers reach for the bag strikes me as familiar. “Have I met him before?”

Dean sits, shaking his head. “No. He’s new to the area, hoping to escape a bad roommate situation. I mentioned we’d be moving in together soon.” He eyes the ring, middling the table like a condiment. “You wanted to tell me something?”

Thosesomethingsscatter like dried leaves under a blower.Why am I so bothered by meeting Dean’s pleasant cousin? Or am I just nervous about what I need to say?I had a plan for tonight—to finally trust Dean with my past, see how he reacts, and measure our relationship accordingly. My love for him would either return full-force or dissipate altogether.

But his intent gaze and expectant smile don’t comfort me into talking—quite the opposite. I’m nervous. I excuse myself for the restroom, hoping to refocus. Rinsing my hands in cold water, my distress pieces together like a mental game of Tetris. Ihaveseen Dean’s cousin before. My plan fades while my certainty grows—I know what I want for the first time in months.

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