Trillion - Winter Renshaw Page 0,65
yet to walk through.
“When you know, you know,” I say before rising to clear the table. “Trey brought you gifts. Trey, you want to grab them?”
He studies me before excusing himself to retrieve the wrapped boxes we left by the rug at the front door. When he returns, he hands one to my mother and one to my sister. A minute later, Mom is holding up a vintage Pucci caftan that once belonged to Trey’s mother, and Emmeline is fawning over a signed and framed Fleetwood Mac poster.
“This is beautiful, Trey. Thank you.” Mom holds it up, and while I’ve no idea where she’ll wear that, the colors bring out the violet in her irises and the implication behind the gift doesn’t go unnoticed to me. It couldn’t have been easy for him to part with something that once belonged to his mother. The man has a box of his father’s cigars sitting on the corner of his grandfather’s desk. He could buy anything he wanted in this world, but those are the things he values.
When I’m done clearing the table, we make small talk for another hour before taking off. I hug Mom and Emmeline and take Trey’s hand as we walk to his SUV parked in the pitted concrete driveway.
“That went well, don’t you think?” he asks when we back out.
“I mean, I don’t think she hates you.” I chuckle.
“She’s very protective of you. I like that.”
“Protective is an understatement, but yes. She is. Sometimes it’s a little much.”
The next five miles are silent. I’m lost in thought, replaying pieces of conversation tonight like memorized clips. Analyzing them. Imagining everything from their point of view. But eventually Trey’s words slip somewhere between all of that.
He knows me better than I thought—yet there’s still that one thing he doesn’t know.
Every time I convince myself to come clean, he distracts me with a disarming smile or his hand between my thighs or the dizzying way he drinks me in after a long day, and I get caught up in the moment, the delicious escape he provides.
“I meant what I said earlier tonight,” he breaks the silence. “All of it.”
My thoughts freeze, but my body has a lot to say. Feelings are funny things, the way they crawl down your skin and tighten your chest and flip your stomach. It’s a bizarre rollercoaster of fear, anticipation, relief, and ecstasy. And I’ve never been a fan of rollercoasters.
“You’re sweet to say those things,” I finally respond.
“Don’t.” His voice is terse.
“Don’t what?”
“Don’t downplay this.”
“I’m not downplaying anything. You said some nice things, and I appreciate that. So thank you.”
“I think you’re falling for me, Sophie. I see it in your eyes. I hear it in all the things you don’t say. And I think it terrifies you.”
If he only knew.
“We made a pact in Seattle,” he continues. “Do you remember that?”
I swallow the tight lump in my throat, sensing where this is going. “Yes.”
“We promised to speak up if this started feeling more than physical,” he says. “And so I’m speaking up. I like you, Sophie.”
Heat creeps up my neck. The words that should come, refuse. Stubborn. Like me.
I like him too.
“This is new for me,” he continues. “Unchartered territory.”
I clasp my hands in my lap, staring at the cherry red taillights in front of us until my eyes sting.
“You don’t have to say anything.” He takes the pressure down a notch, and I exhale. “Not tonight. But whenever you’re ready to have a conversation about this—a real fucking conversation—I’ll be ready.”
If I relent, if I tell him how I truly feel …
If I give myself to him wholly …
It’s only a matter of time before the newness wears off, things grow stale, and something shiny and new catches his eye. He might be superhuman, but he’s still only human.
“Can I sleep in a guest room tonight?” I ask when we get back to the estate. “Just for a little space?”
“No,” he says, avoiding my stare. “I’ll sleep in a guest room. You can have our bed.”
In that moment, the overwhelming urge to climb into his arms and kiss his mouth and inhale his sharp scent and pretend like everything is easy and physical again rushes through me, but I let it pass.
Now that he’s admitted he’s catching feelings, it’s never going to be the way it was.
I’m climbing the stairs to the second level when he disappears into his study. By the time I reach the landing, I hear the clink of