“Yes.”
“Well, for your information, I take at least three bites per slice. I’m practically a gentleman about it.”
A laugh bubbles out of her. “I didn’t know you could be a gentleman about anything.”
“You should feel special that I shared with you,” I say, leaning in a bit closer. “I don’t do that for anyone, you know.”
She rolls her eyes. “It all makes sense now when you complain about me not eating enough. Look at your standard forenough.”
“Exactly. And for your information, you only seem to eat enough when I feed you myself.”
She fails to stop the smile tugging at her lips. “You’re annoying.”
“And yet, here you are. Sharing this loaf with me.” My voice drops. “Spending time with me.”
The warmth in her gaze catches me off guard, like she’s peeling back a layer I didn’t know I was hiding behind. And then she looks away, pretending to focus on her coffee cup. “You’re surprisingly easy to tolerate these days, I guess.”
“Oh, come on. Admit it. You want to be with me. You like me.” My words come out wobbly, the playful edge I was going for lost under the weight of my racing heartbeat. Partly becauselikeisn’t the word I want from her—not at all. It’s not enough for how I feel about her, at least. Not for the way every moment with her consumes me. Not for the amount of space she takes up in my thoughts.
“I can tell you’re trying to distract me, you know. So you won’t have to talk about what’s bothering you.”
My stomach flips. I wasn’t trying to distract her. She’s the one who distracted me, but the reminder makes my dread return. I lean back in my chair. “As you know, my next fight is approaching.”
She nods. “It’s two weeks away.”
“Right. Well, it seems no one thinks I’ll win.”
She tilts her head at me. “What do you mean?”
I slide out of my chair and sit right next to her so I can show her the comments. This close, I can smell that delicious lavender on her skin again. It steals my thoughts away the same way it did on the hot air balloon when she was wrapped in my arms.
Focus, Bash.
I clear my throat, handing her my phone with Munera’s social media page pulled up. “Take a look.” I press my hands to my temples again. “Read the comments.”
She’s silent as she does. I can’t bear to look, watch her expression change when she finds out no one, absolutely no one, has any faith in me. In my ability to win this or make something of myself.
It’s my parents all over again.
Suddenly, Romilly’s hand is on my shoulder. “Bash, these comments don’t mean anything.”
“They meaneverything.”
She shakes her head. “They don’t. Not at all.”
“How can you say that?”
“Because these people don’t know you. They’ve never even met you. They haven’t seen the drive, the determination I have in you since the day we crossed paths. You’re smart. You’re brave. You’re—” she swallows as her gaze sweeps my arms, my shoulders, “—you’re strong. Important. And usually much too confident.”
“Confidenceismy specialty.” I smirk, but it falters away as my eyes search hers, trying to memorize this moment and the way she’s looking at me. “Would you…would you maybe want to come, Romilly? Just to support me. You can say no, and please don’t feel pressured to?—”
“I’ll be there,” she says simply. “Of course I will.”
My heart catapults right into my ribcage. “You will? It’s in Boston. We could drive there together. ”
She nods. “Okay.”
“What about the dogs?”
