Chapter 8 Deli #2
“I don’t know. It’s just a picture my aunt sent.”
He glared at her as she tried to stay calm.
She couldn’t blame him. Of course he was upset finding a taped-together photo with an admittedly gorgeous man he’d never seen right before he was going to lay his heart on the line.
She elaborated, hoping to comfort. “I have no idea who that is, Trey. And I don’t care. ”
Trey looked from Deli to the photo, to the box set, and said, “This is beneath you, Delilah.”
Deli—truly baffled as she watched the night slip away from her—held on to the silence, hoping he’d say something that made it all simple and silly and salvageable.
He relented in a pent-up breath. “It gives women false expectations. Like, what? If I can’t toss a tree over my shoulder or swordfight in a skirt, I’m not man enough?
” Deli looked at him like he’d sprouted a banana out of the top of his head, which seemed to strengthen his resolve.
He threw his hands in the air and crossed them over his chest. “It’s simple, Deli.
It’s a double standard. A ridiculous fantasy. ”
His mercurial eyes bored into her, searching for combat over his bizarre fixation on nameless women craving the rugged touch of an imaginary kilted woodchopper.
But Deli knew the rare storms of his anger weren’t really him.
She tilted her head to listen, because what Trey actually needed was for her to listen.
Deli watched the pink of his hands go white against the cool tile as he squeezed his eyes closed. Then he was there, his arms wrapping under hers and around her body, his fists balled against her lower back as he buried his face in her shoulder.
“I’m sorry,” Trey whispered into her hair. Deli’s arms hovered at strange angles on either side of him, halfway between hanging and hugging him in return. She could feel the heat of his breath on her neck—the tension in the way he held her—as she brought her arms to rest over his shoulders.
“It’s alright, Trey.” She stroked his head—his highlighted hair stiff with product instead of the sea salt of their younger years.
Trey began to sway, so gently at first Deli wasn’t sure if she was imagining it, until they were dancing together.
In the quiet of the moment, of just two people dancing in a little kitchen, their whispered words felt right.
It all felt right. And she realized what Trey was trying to say underneath it all.
Deli let him hold on to her, rocking back and forth, for a long time before she spoke. He just needed a little push.
“Why did you invite me over tonight?”
The dancing stopped. Trey pulled back and looked down, one clenched fist still pressing against her back, and she watched a desperate sadness flood him.
She’d been too scared to say she was in love with him—too scared to ask about the kiss.
Too scared to risk losing him altogether.
Maybe she’d been scared her whole life. But there, in his kitchen, on Valentine’s Day, while Trey was searching and failing to find the words himself, Deli MacDonald decided she could be brave. She could be brave for him.
“Trey?”
He didn’t respond. A muscle in his jaw moved.
“You don’t need to worry about anyone else, especially not an imaginary Scottish dreamboat.” She counted to three, and jumped. “I only want . . . you.”
Deli would never know how much time actually passed in the moments that followed—Trey’s mouth opening to speak, his hand coming up to touch her face, then his eyes sliding past her to the flowers on the table and the wine on the counter.
Had it been a second or an hour since Deli flinched at the sound of his watch chiming so close to her ear, or the moment he scanned the notification and went still?
Time seemed to stop as he stepped away from her in one smooth motion and left her hand hovering in the space where they were just touching.
“Deli . . .” It sounded like something inside him was trying to keep the words from escaping. “We’re just . . . we’re just friends.”
Deli felt the world drop out from under her while Trey watched her standing motionless in his home, waiting for a response that wouldn’t come.
Just friends. How could she have gotten it so wrong?
Trey paced in a tiny line in the kitchen, muttering and glancing her way before he turned with a pleading look.
“Please, Deli. You’re . . . We’re perfect as we are. Why do we have to change anything?”
It didn’t make any sense. Why would he do all of it—the food and the wine and the flowers and the kiss—if he didn’t want her? Why errands and families and five-hour phone calls if he didn’t love her? Trey reached for her. Deli backed away.
He made a sound like a wounded animal. “Deli, please. Please. I can’t. I just can’t.”
Blue petals fell onto the cold metal table. Beads of condensation slid down the wine she wasn’t allowed to touch.
“Why did you invite me over tonight, Trey?”
Trey moved like he was going to hold her face, but Deli recoiled, turning her head and squeezing her eyes closed. Desperation strung his voice tight.
“Deli, please—”
“Why?” She didn’t recognize her own voice—so thin and rough with the effort of holding back her broken heart.
Trey ran his hands over his face and into his hair, leaning backward against the refrigerator with anguished eyes. Deli spoke methodically, like they were just two people trying to solve a riddle. “It’s Valentine’s Day. I’m wearing heels.”
“I know, I—”
“What about yesterday?” Indignance and shame burned in her cheeks. “That . . . stupid cupcake?”
He buried his face in his hands.
“Something has changed between us, though—right, Trey?” She hated herself for begging, but she hated herself more for being on the verge of losing him. “I mean, why did you kiss me?”
Trey’s stilted breath came in small bursts between periods of silence as he pressed his palms into his eyes.
Then he smoothed his hair as he took a deep breath, looked up, and returned her gaze.
The frantic confusion in his eyes fled and left behind cool, hard stone.
He stood straight, tugging at each sleeve one at a time.
And Deli MacDonald watched the man she was in love with decide something.
“You’re right,” he said. “Something has changed.”
He set his jaw.
“I’ve fallen in love.”
She couldn’t breathe. Couldn’t think.
“I’ve fallen in love with Scarlett.”