“I’m not opposed to the idea, but I have a condition of my own.”
Her shoulders relaxed when she realized I wasn’t rejecting her offer. As if I could. “Of course, you do.” She nodded again, gaze bouncing around the kitchen, fingers fidgeting with the neckline of my too-big T-shirt. “I’m listening.”
“Good.” I sat up taller and looked at her until her eyes connected with mine. “I want you to give us—give me—a chance. A real chance, while we spend naked time together.” There. I said it. My deepest want had finally been voiced and now the rest was up to Persephone.
She swallowed hard, a look of pure terror on her face. “A chance at what?”
“Ouch.” I rubbed at the real physical ache in my chest at her question. “To make you mine.” Her answering expression gave me no hope. “Unless, of course, you are absolutely sure that you do not and could not ever want that with me.”
“It’s not that, Ryan.” She sighed and her whole body fell, as if I’d just ruined her plans. “Why ruin this great thing we have with romance? It messes everything up.”
“Does it?”
She nodded. “You know it does. Ferguson. Amy. Tyson. Briana. Davis. Sherillyn. None of them worked out.”
“But what if Ryan and Persephone do work out? Have you even considered that, or are you that sure we’re doomed?”
I knew her relationship history and I’d known none of them would work out. Well, I had been scared about Ferguson until he, in an act of pure insanity, chose Canada over the wonderful woman current chewing her bottom lip to pieces in front of me.
“You’re sure you want this?”
I nodded. “I am. I want you, Persephone, all of you. I have for a long time, and that’s how I know that just having sex with you won’t make it go away. So,” I sighed, heart in my hands, “I’m asking you to consider me as an option for a boyfriend. A future husband. A father. All of it.”
I shook my head. Her expression was so blank, it all felt hopeless.
“I know I’m just a mechanic, but I think we could have a good life together. A full life.”
“You’re not just a mechanic,” she growled at me, gaze narrowed to slits. “You are a world-class automotive restorer and an all-around great human being. Don’t talk shit about my best friend.”
I smiled even as confusion tightened into a knot in my gut. “Then why won’t you consider me?”
“Because, Ryan. I don’t want to lose you forever when this doesn’t work out between us.”
“You won’t,” I promised. “If for some strange reason it doesn’t work out, I promise you won’t lose me. Neither will Titus.”
“You can’t promise that.”
“I damn well can and I’m promising you exactly that, right now. Sure, it might be awkward for a few weeks or months, but we always find our way back to each other. Besides, I think we’ll be so awesome together that it won’t be an issue. Ever.”
“You do?” There was a world of hope contained in those two words, and that was all I needed to hear.
“Hell yes, I do. You’re my best friend, my favorite person in the world, and now I get to wine and dine you. And sixty-nine you. What could be better?”
She let out a shaky breath but her wariness had turned to excitement. “I’m scared as hell about this, Ryan, but I’m trusting you to keep your word that I won’t lose you. So, I’m saying yes. To dates and to sex.”
“Should we consider tonight our first date?”
She laughed. “I don’t cook on the first date.”
I let out a loud bark of laughter. “Good, because you did not cook this lasagna. The fancy ingredients have Antonio written all over it.”
Persephone pouted. “If you really wanted to date me, you would have pretended to think I cooked for you.”
I laughed again. “But I’m also your best friend and I know you, and can’t lie to you.”
“This is going to be strange. Truly weird,” she said with a laugh and finally plated another serving of lasagna.
“Totally, but in the best possible way.”
Her relieved smile filled me with hope for the future and I vowed, then and there, to do everything I could to make her love me.
Persy
“When you said romance, I was sure you meant holding hands in a dark movie theater, maybe a candlelight dinner or two. Not all this.” I motioned to the fancy French restaurant with the dim lighting and tuxedoed waitstaff, the long white tablecloths and the single rose in a tiny crystal vase. The place was the definition of romance.
“There’s a candle,” he said casually. “Is it too much?”
“Not at all.” I shook my head and smiled. “It’s wonderful, just not what I was expecting.”
I also hadn’t been expecting Ryan to look so good in his date-night attire. He wore a sky-blue button-up shirt that gave his eyes an intense blue color that was almost hypnotic, gray pants that hugged his butt perfectly, and newly shined dress shoes. He was hot stuff.