PYKE

 

 

Instead of getting offended, I find myself smiling while Camila is in a deep frown.

“I didn’t steal that. And just so you know, I was not proposing.” I release my arms from her, taking a seat in front of the dinner.

Her scowl deepens. “So, all those words you’ve said were not actually true? You don’t mean it?”

“What do you think?” I ask, provoking her.

She blinks, bites her bottom lip, and looks down at the miniature car in her hand.

Shit! She’s not gonna cry, isn’t she?

“I shouldn’t have believed you, you know,” she mutters.

“Come here.” I gesture my hand.

She hesitates for seconds....