Page 69 of Hate the One You're With
He gives me a boyish smile. “I now know more about rom-coms than you. I’ve binged them all, and yes, I can quoteWhenHarry Met Sallybetter than you, which I never thought possible.”
A tear slips down my cheek, and he wipes it away with his thumb. “I’ve even joined a yoga class to keep up with you. I’m down for downward dog, chanting, and maybe even some ‘namaste’—if it means I get to spend more time with you.”
His eyes soften as he says, “I’ve become a master of apologizing. I’ve got the whole ‘I’m sorry’ thing down, complete with the right look and tone. I know it’s only a start, but it’s a good one, right?”
I nod, my heart full.
He tilts his head, his expression turning serious. “I’ve upgraded my apology playlist just for you. No more sad love songs—now I’ve got a playlist full of catchy ‘please-take-me-back’ hits that you won’t be able to resist.”
He pauses, searching my face for a reaction. “I’m willing to watch your favorite shows without complaint. Even the cheesiest reality shows that I used to mock—because I want to share what you love.”
He looks at me with such hope, such love, that I can’t help but smile through my tears.
“Em,” he says, his voice gentle but resolute, “I love you. Please, give me a second chance to prove it.”
“Cal . . .” I start, my voice trembling as I search for the right words. “This is . . . the ring, your words—they’re beautiful, but I don’t know if it’s enough.”
His gaze never wavers. “Just let me cook dinner tonight. Tomorrow, I’ll take you on a proper date,” he says, his tone full of determination. “I have an entire plan to sweep you off your feet,to make you fall in love with me all over again while I get to know the woman you’ve become. And maybe, just maybe, you’ll let that sweet, incredible person I know you to be come out to play again.”
“We shouldn’t,” I protest weakly, though, even, I can hear the uncertainty in my voice.
“Please, baby,” he murmurs, his eyes pleading with mine. “Give us a chance to find each other again.”
I close my eyes briefly and say, “Yes, but don’t make me regret this, Caleb.”
Chapter Forty-Four
Caleb
The moment the word “yes”leaves her lips, relief floods through me, and I can’t help but pull her into my arms. I hug her tightly, lifting her off her feet and twirling her around, laughing as her soft laughter joins mine. For a second, everything feels like it’s falling back into place, like this is where we were always meant to be.
As I set her down, I slip the ringonto her finger, my hand trembling slightly. It’s a perfect fit, glistening on her hand like it was always meant to be there.
“Where did you get this beautiful ring?” she asks, her voice filled with awe as she stares at the diamond.
I smile, a mixture of pride and bittersweetness welling up inside me. “I had planned to give it to you on our second wedding anniversary,” I admit, my voice softening. “But . . . well, things didn’t exactly go as planned.”
She looks up at me, her eyes shimmering with emotion. “You kept it all this time?”
“Yeah,” I nod, brushing a strand of hair behind her ear. “I never really gave up on us, Em. Even when I was angry, even when I was lost . . . and swore I hated you, a part of me always hoped we’d find our way back to each other.”
“What about all those women . . .?” she asks, her voice tinged with uncertainty. “Zoe said you had a huge lineup. You were never alone.”
Fucking Zoe. I don’t want to rehash this, but she deserves to know the truth. “I did bring dates to make sure no one would assume I was still pining for you—or that their girlfriends and wives wouldn’t start playing matchmaker. Other than bringing them with me, nothing went past that one first date.”
“It’s not that I’m jealous,” she clarifies, her tone almost defensive.
“Oh, baby, don’t lie to me. You hate the idea of somebody else looking at me—I bet it’s worse when it comes to dating,” I say teasingly.
“You’re pretty possessive too,” she comments.
“And I don’t deny it,” I say, my voice dropping, filled withan edge of possessiveness. The thought of someone else touching her, looking at her the way I do, makes my blood simmer. “Just the idea of someone else’s hands on you . . . It drives me fucking crazy. No one is allowed to touch you . . . you know that. Even you need to ask for my permission to touch yourself, Em. Always.”
She darkens with a blend of arousal and anticipation. I can feel the subtle shiver that runs through her, her body betraying her even as she tries to hold back.
“Do you want to touch yourself now?” I ask, my voice low and rough, the command just beneath the surface. “Do you want me to watch you, to see how fast you can make yourself come while you’re thinking about me?”
Her lips part, her breathing becoming shallow and rapid, and I can see the flush spreading across her cheeks. She bites her lip, a flirty glint in her eyes as she looks up at me through her lashes. “Maybe I do,” she murmurs, her voice playful but laced with need. “But what if I finger fuck myself while I suck your cock?”
