Page 44 of Give My Everything
So that means I should just steer clear of them entirely.
Enjoy the good times for what they are—good times.
I see Remmy making her way back to the table from the bathroom and something slices through me.
Everything tonight has happened so quickly, this is the first time I’m really seeing her.
Her short black dress shimmers as the light hits it, her long hair down and wavy, her lips slicked with something that looks like a delicious cabernet.
In another life, I could get lost in her.
Those long legs and curves are built to be gripped and held and chucked onto a bed, tangled in sheets and sweat.
I take a deep breath and try to shove that thought aside.
Good times, not forever.
It’s important that I remember that.
“That was…interesting,” Remmy says as we pull away from The Royal, leaving Hannah and Wyatt behind as they wait for their own car to be pulled up by the valet.
I chuckle. “It’s always interesting when my brother’s around.”
“That’s not what I mean,” she replies, and when I glance at her, I see a hardened look in her eyes that I’m not expecting. “I’ll be honest, Ben, I’m having an issue with how you keep pulling the rug out from under me, first with dinner at the same table and then with announcing our ‘engagement’ without asking me how I felt about it.”
She puts quotations around the wordengagementand then crosses her arms, her irritation visible in every muscle in her body.
I rub the side of my jaw with one hand and steer with the other as I try to decide what to say in response.
Because she’s right. I do keep making decisions without her, even though I told her I would try not to.
“It’s hard for me,” I reply, the words coming out of my mouth before I can think to stop them. “It’s hard for me to allow someone else to influence my decisions.”
When I glance over, I see Remmy sitting quietly, but her eyes are focused on me.
“But as my future wife, you aren’t justsomeone. I’m sorry for not considering you. I’m just still…adjusting to that expectation, to the idea that my actions impact you and we need to do thingstogether.”
Remmy nods but continues to stare at the front of the car, the lights from the dash brightening the otherwise dark interior.
“We have to be on the same page about what we tell people, Ben, andwhenwe tell them. My parents know nothing except for what my mother saw at the dinner you crashed last week. You might think they’re super old fashioned—hell, evenIthink that—but they’re still my parents. I don’t always keep things from them because I’m afraid of them knowing. Sometimes it’s because I don’t want them to be hurt, and I don’t want to risk something about us getting back to them before I’m ready to talk to them about it.”
“That’s fair,” I reply.
We drive a little longer in silence before Remmy pipes up.
“So, what next?”
“What do you mean?”
“Well, we didn’t really get a true date,” she answers. “We spent time with your brother and his girlfriend. I was hoping for a little solitary us time, you know? I’m committing to marry you and I don’t even know your favorite color.”
“Orange.”
She snorts. “Come on.”
“I’m serious.”
“Ben, nobody’s favorite color is orange. That’s like saying your favorite flavor of ice cream is…like, watermelon or something.”
