He shakes his head. “It’s nothing.”
“Tell me.”
He meets my gaze, and his lip quirks at the side. “Don’t laugh at me.”
I shake my head. “I will not promise that.”
“Then I’m not telling you.”
I scrunch up my face, thinking really hard if I can contain myself. Usually if he says that, I can’t. “Fine.”
“Promise?”
“Promise.”
He lets out an embarrassed laugh, and then his eyes capture mine. “We sat in the car before we went into the mall, looking for songs to send you.”
There is no laughter in me. Mainly because my heart has exploded. “Really?”
“Really, and it was so silly because nothing felt right. And then the one that did, I felt I wasn’t ready to give you.”
“Aw, what song?”
He gives me a look. “I’m not telling you.”
“Why?”
“I might use it later,” he says, eyeing me through his long lashes. “But she was texting me another song that she says ‘fits us perfectly.’”
“Which one?”
“Again, not telling you. I haven’t heard it, and I want to listen to it first.”
“So rude,” I complain, and he winks.
“I’ll make it up to you.”
His words are more a promise than anything, and that excites me more than it should. Our entrees are brought out, and we dig in. We eat off each other’s plates, and the conversation is so easy. So us. I very much skirt around the edges of where I sent my resumes, and he says every sweet thing in the book, except the three words I’m dying for. He finishes before I do, and when the waitress takes his plate, I send him a forgiving smile.
“I’m getting full, but my mom didn’t raise a quitter,” I admit, and he laughs.
“It’s fine. Take a break.”
“So supportive,” I say as he grins. I lean back in the chair, thankful that my dress gives the food baby growing in my gut some room. I feel him watching me, and I look over, shrugging. “What?”
“I’ve got something else for you.”
I arch a brow. “What? Why? Asher, you’ve given me so much tonight. It’s really the perfect night.”
He swallows as he opens his jacket and pulls out a little box. “I want you to know how I feel about you.”
My heart actually stops as he places the little mahogany box in front of me. I look from it to him and then back down to it. I feel my heart kick back up and start to pounding. “What is this?”
“Open it.”
I look back at him. “Are you asking me to marry you?”
He scoffs. “I’m glad I’m not because you would have ruined it.”