Page 55 of The Proposal
I pull my legs beneath me, and gaze past his shoulder into the clouds.
The day feels like it’s taken both the blink of an eye and a calendar year. By the time Renn dealt with his publicist, fielded a small selection of the incoming calls and texts blowing up his phone, and arranged for our travel to aplace with a beach, it was after four in the afternoon. I intentionally did not check my phone, sent Ella out for travel essentials—despite Brock and Renn melting down over it after the fact—and attempted to manage the panic attack sneaking up on me.
What neither Renn nor I have done over the past almost ten hours is discuss anything relating to our newly formed union. And while I know we bought ourselves a few days to figure that out … I still want—need—a resolution.Soon.
Renn shuts off his phone and tosses it on the sofa. As it drops, so do his shoulders. “I should’ve turned that off a long time ago. I hate people.”
I grin. “No, you don’t.”
“Oh, I do. I really,reallydo.” He blows out a breath. “My publicist put out the statement we approved before we left Vegas.”
“Which one did we end up going with? I forgot. There were so many renditions.”
“She copied you on the final email. It basically said we are enjoying a few days away and asked the world to respect our privacy.”
“Which it won’t.”
He rolls his head around his neck. “Probably not. But I’m taking you to the one place we have a shot at it.”
“Are you going to tell me where that place might be?”
“Nope. It’s a surprise.”
His smile, boyish and proud, eases the lines around his eyes. Coupled with his messy hair and the way the collar of his shirt is crooked, Renn is adorable.
I want to prod him about our destination. I’msocurious about the Brewer Air logo. And I really want to curl up on this sofa and get some much-needed sleep, but I can’t. I can’t do any ofthatuntil we get to the bottom ofthis.
“I have a call with the Royals general manager tomorrow,” he says, falling back against the sofa.
“What are you going to tell them?”
He shrugs. “That’s the multimillion-dollar question.”
Yes, it is… “I think now is as good a time as any to talk this out. Don’t you think?”
“We’re going to be on this plane for a while, so we might as well.”
We are? “Definea while.”
He smiles. “A while.”
I roll my eyes.
“So let’s do this. Let’s get to the bottom of it,” he says. “Where is your head right now?”
I fiddle with the hem of my sweatshirt. “I’m waffling between what’s best for you, what’s best for me, and what’s best for us.” My eyes lift to his. “Where isyourhead right now?”
“Honestly?”
“Honestly.”
His Adam’s apple bobs. “I think the best thing for us is to stay married.”
My head falls into my hands.Of course, you do.
“Just think about it,” he says, leaning forward. His voice is calm and careful. “It puts out the fire. No one can say shit if they really think we’re married.”
“No offense, but I don’t really want to be married to you.”
