Page 192 of Love Unwritten
“Things were different.”
“How?”
“I was your employee.”
“And now you’re my…”
She raises her brows in silent question.
My mouth suddenly feels dry. I’m not ready to put a label on this—this thing—but I know it is serious. These feelings aren’t casual, although I’m not ready to categorize them just yet. Doing so wouldn’t be fair to Ellie, but I know I want her.
Only a couple of weeks ago, I was determined to spend the next however many years alone, so I need time to process what life with a partner would look like. Can I learn to let go of my past and trust Ellie wholeheartedly? Will I be able to get married again and expand my family?
If I don’t stop now, my spiral will never end.
I clear my throat. “Well, you’re important. And people who are important to me accept being spoiled from time to time.”
If I wasn’t so attuned to her expressions, I probably wouldn’t have noticed her smile faltering or the way her eyes slightly dim, but I observe everything when it comes to her, which is a blessing and a curse based on the way my stomach clenches at her disappointment.
She recovers quicker than me. “You’re important to me too.” She stands on the tips of her toes and kisses my cheek. “Thank you.”
“Ready?”
She nods, and we change the subject while walking back toward the truck, although I can’t shake the feeling that I disappointed her somehow.
I need to be better for her, or else I’m going to lose her before I ever truly had her.
Ellie and I spend the rest of our date night hopping around record stores before she asks me to stop at a drive-in chain that brings the food out to your vehicle. I haven’t been to the fifties-inspired place since I was a kid, and apparently neither has Ellie.
Turns out she is extremely nostalgic, which was something I hadn’t known about her.
Songs. Childhood shows. Her love of family traditions and a blanket she can’t fall asleep without despite being twenty-nine years old.
I can’t relate to that kind of personality trait, but the way she lights up whenever she talks about the things she enjoys piques my interest and makes me want to appease her love for the past. So I canceled our reservation at a fancy steakhouse as I pulled into one of the empty spots outside of the restaurant.
I don’t even let Nico eat snacks in my truck, but all it takes is Ellie batting her lashes and saying please in that strained voice of hers for me to cave.
If Julian knew, he would give me shit for a week.
A woman in roller skates and a costume inspired by the fifties comes out to my truck, and we order burgers, fries, and a single strawberry milkshake. I know why Ellie insists on splitting our fries and sharing a milkshake instead of ordering two, and it makes me appreciate her even more than I already do.
Ellie takes over my speaker system and plays Astrid and the Treble Makers, which apparently were big back in the days of jukeboxes and poodle skirts, while we talk and eat our food. I don’t have to worry about keeping up false pretenses or overthinking my next sentence, and any lull in conversation is comforting rather than uncomfortable.
She wraps her lips around the straw and sucks, completely unaware of how uncomfortably tight my pants have become in the process of her drinking the milkshake.
“Are you sure you don’t want some?” She offers me the plastic cup.
“Nope.” I’d much rather watch her, thank you very much.
She laughs to herself. “I thought you did?”
“Changed my mind.” My gaze drops to her mouth.
Her face lights up as it clicks for her, and she makes a show of taking another sip.
I narrow my eyes.
She rolls hers with a smile. “Don’t tell me you’re worried about your caloric intake or something.”