“You guys need help?”
“It’s a three-hour drive. We won’t get home until late.”
“That’s fine. I just want to spend time with you.” He flashes a boyish grin, and I melt on the spot. “Even if that means being stuck in a car with Rue Rosewood for a six-hour road trip.”
“Delilah, who’s at the door?” Rue calls from behind me.
“Just the boy next door.” I smile at him. He smiles back.
God, I’m going to miss this.
“Hi, Zane.” Rue comes out from behind me. “Having a nice afternoon?”
“Was just about to go on a jog, but Delilah mentioned you’re taking a load to the new place. Mind if I tag along and help?”
Rue gives him a side-eyed glance and then peers down her nose at him. “You really want to move my stuff?”
“If I’m being honest, I just want to spend time with your niece before she leaves. These are precious hours we’re burning up here.” Zane pulls his shoulders back, unshaken by Rue’s eagle-eyed stare. He lifts a bicep, curling his arm until the muscle pops out. I giggle. “I’ll do all the heavy lifting of course. You ladies won’t even have to break a sweat.”
Rue tries not to smile. “No sense in me tagging along. I’d just be the third wheel. You two run along. Take your little road trip. Delilah, the keys are hanging up in the kitchen. The address is programmed into the navigation system in my car.”
“You sure you don’t want to come along?” I ask. I feel bad. Although I’m sure there are a million other things she’d rather do around here.
“Nah. I’ll head down to the clubhouse. Maybe have dinner with Ethel and the girls.”
“Ooh. Dinner with the new president. How fancy,” I tease.
“You drive safely now, you hear?” Her gaze is pointed at Zane.
He places his hand over his chest. “I’ll protect her with my life.”
* * *
Two hours later, we’ve loaded every square millimeter of space in Rue’s Lexus with cardboard boxes and we’re jetting down the highway toward Palm Beach with two hours remaining on our drive.
“Eleven days.” Zane taps his palm against the steering wheel to the beat of the Cuban music playing faintly over the speakers, singing along under his breath. “Ay, candela, candela . . .”
“Yeah.” I lean my head against the cool glass, counting palm trees that we pass. I’m up to one-hundred and sixty-eight so far, though I’m sure I’ve missed some along the way. “I’m trying not to think about it.”
“Me too.”
Chapter 32
Zane
“Very nice.” I drop a box – gently – by the front door of the Palm Beach condo. This place is spic and span, literally unlived in, and fancy as hell. Everything’s white and shiny and futuristic. When I’m seventy-five, I hope to be half as cool as Rue Rosewood.
“Shall we show ourselves around?” Delilah takes my hand and leads me from room to room, flicking on lights and checking out closets.
“Why so many bedrooms?” I ask after the third one.
Delilah stops in the hall, turning to look at me. “Rue’s passing the condo on to me and my siblings. She wants us to use it as a kind of shared vacation home, and she wanted extra bedrooms so we can bring our own families someday.”
Her voice tapers off.
“How funny would it be if . . .” She stops, refusing to finish her thought. “Never mind. That’s insane. It would never happen.”
Standing across from her, getting lost in her warm brown eyes, I try to picture an older version of this beautiful woman, another man’s ring on her finger, her belly swollen and a couple small children running up and down these halls.
My chest tightens.
Someday Delilah Rosewood will be married to some asshole who doesn’t deserve her, and I’m just going to be some summer fling. A distant memory, growing more faded with every new and exciting milestone Delilah reaches in her life.
It’s been well over a month since Delilah freaked out in my kitchen, declaring her heart confused and wondering what happens after this. She hasn’t said a word since. Not a single peep. She doesn’t complain or ask questions or muse about the future when she’s lying naked and breathless in my arms.
“I’m going to check out the kitchen.” She bites her lip, pointing down the hall, and within seconds she’s sauntering off, humming a quiet tune under her breath.
I follow, standing aside and watching her pull open drawers and examine appliances.
For the last five weeks, she’s been playing the part of the perfect fuck buddy. Sweet. Sassy. String-free.
And me? I’ve been playing the part of the man, secretly and foolishly falling more in love every time I see her.
The words are there, on the tip of my tongue, begging to be spoken.
Needing to be spoken.
Chapter 33
Love.
You.
I clear my throat, my pulse racing and my vision growing blurry. It’s been years since I’ve said these words, and if I’m going to say them, I want her to hear them here and now. I don’t want to wait or I might chicken out.
“Delilah, I . . .” I pull in a deep breath, and the ground beneath me feels a little unsteady but in the most amazing of ways.
Delilah screams and jumps a good foot or two off the ground, the bloodcurdling pierce sending a dull ache to my eardrums. Scrambling, she dives into my arms, taking a fistful of my shirt and pulling me toward the door.