was a math guy—he knew the stats and they weren’t in our favor. And most of what I’ve seen since then has proved him right.”
“So you’ve followed his advice—been a good little boy?”
“I was a stupid teenager who did some really stupid things,” he said. “But after I grew up a little, I had a couple more serious girlfriends and gave his theory some thought.”
“Get very far?”
He shook his head. “Every time I stopped to wonder if I was willing to invest in a lifelong battle to keep the relationship alive, I decided I didn’t love her enough or I didn’t want marriage enough.”
I let the silence stretch, mostly because I had no idea how to fill it.
“And now?” I resisted the urge to clap my hands over my ears and sing loudly enough to drown out his response. I was a little nervous.
“And now,” he said, “I’ve reached the ripe old age of thirty-six . . .”
“Nearly thirty-seven.”
“. . . and I’m in a bit of a predicament.”
Here it was. “Predicament?”
“Having found someone I’m willing to go to war for.”
My stomach somersaulted. Not the confession I’d expected. “And that’s a predicament because . . . ?”
“Because I want it with all my might,” he said, his eyes lighting with intensity and determination, “but I don’t know yet if you’re up for the battle too.”
“I see.” The voices were rising in my mind again.
He sighed and leaned his head sideways on the headrest, staring at me. “Still no Scarlett?”
“I think she might be giving you the time to change your mind.”
“She can stop whenever she wants, you know.”
I nodded. “I’ve never been very good at battles, Scott. I’m the type who runs for the cellar, not the armory.”
“I’m in no hurry,” he said.
Years of cynicism streaked toxic stains across the genuineness of Scott’s gaze. I wanted to believe him—with every insurmountable scar of my past.
“I don’t know how to trust you,” I said. I saw his gaze cloud over and a muscle work in his jaw. “That’s not what I mean,” I rectified. “I know I can trust you. But it’s your . . . your . . .”
“Love?”
“Your love,” I said, and the word sounded foreign and unwieldy on my tongue. “It’s your love I have trouble with. And if I can’t believe that . . .”
He turned toward me in his seat and looked at me like the answer was written in hieroglyphics on my face. “What will it take?” he asked in a voice whose huskiness matched mine. “How can I convince you?”
I bit my lip and shook my head, begging him with my eyes not to hate me for my uncertainty. “I don’t know.”
There was a flicker of frustration in his gaze, quickly quelled and softened with a patience that humbled me. “I’ll keep trying until I get it right,” he said, and I knew from the edge in his voice that my hesitance was hurting him.
“I’m sorry, Scott.”
“There’s no need.”
His hand was gentle as he cupped my face. His smile held something deep-flowing and sure. “You should get some sleep,” he said. “You’ve got a couple big days coming up.” His voice was still a little tight, but his eyes were soft and ember-warm.
“You’re right,” I said, reluctant to leave him but relieved to defer the conversation. “And I’ve got an early morning tomorrow, so . . .” I looked into the serenity and depth of his smile, and I wondered what I’d done to earn his love. But Trey was waiting for me in my apartment, probably half-asleep on the couch by now. “I’d better go. Trey and I still have some catching up to do.”
“Glad he’s here?”
“I can’t even tell you.”
“I like him, Shell.”
“And all you’ve seen is his caveman side!” It felt good to smile.
“He loves you. That’s all I really need to know.”
“I’m so . . .” I paused. How could I explain to him the fullness of my heart? “I’m so very grateful to know you, Scott. To . . . to have you in my life. And Shayla’s. I just want you to know that. Whatever happens.” I reached up to touch his face and let my fingers drift over his features. What had I done to deserve this man who made me laugh and think and wish for an impossible future?
He took my fingers from his face and kissed my palm. “Good night, Shelby.”
“Good night, Scott.”
21
THE ACTORS WERE strangely calm as they went through their final preparations—makeup touch-ups,