He rests his chin on his interlaced fingers. He’s waiting for me to say my piece.

“First, I’m sorry,” I begin. “I’m deeply sorry for all the ways in which I abused your trust and hurt you.”

He raises one eyebrow. I think that’s my signal to continue.

“I should’ve been honest with you from the start. Well, maybe not at Dorrian’s. But I won’t lie: At first, being with you felt like a game. Like as long as I played my cards right, I could strategize this perfect future for us and bring it to life. But then, once we started falling for each other, things changed. There were times I wanted to come clean, and I wish I had, but I was too afraid that you’d react badly and that everything would be over. I was selfish, and for that, I’m sorry.”

A line of stress creases his forehead. “ ‘Once we started falling for each other’? ” he repeats bitterly.

“Maybe you fell first,” I admit. “But I did really care for you. You have to know that. I couldn’t fake that.”

“No? You faked everything else,” he retorts.

I take a deep breath to keep the pangs of panic in my chest at bay.

“I was wrong, and I know it, and I’m sorry. I know that’s probably not enough. But it’s the truth.”

“So, basically, you’re saying you loved me, but not enough to be honest with me.”

I feel breathless with shame. I wish I had a coffee to sip, or at least the cardboard sleeve to fiddle with. Right now, I could tear it to shreds.

“Blake . . .” I begin. But the words don’t come.

“I’m guessing you came here because you want something from me,” he says sharply.

“I . . .”

“Don’t lie,” he says. “You always have an agenda. I know you.”

“Blake, I . . . I . . .”

I stumble over my words. He deserves to hear what I have to say, but I’m surprised by how difficult it is to explain what I want. I wish I knew how to tactfully suggest he marry me in a legally nonbinding wedding ceremony, but there’s no rulebook for how to do that. I’m overwhelmed.

“God, Eliza, be honest, just for once!” he explodes.

I’m sure that caught the attention of other people here. I feel so enveloped by embarassment.

“Okay, look, I wasn’t going to say anything unless you seemed potentially open to it, because my first and biggest priority here really was to apologize,” I begin. “And again, I am sorry. Truly, I am. But if you want it, here’s the truth: my company is in serious trouble. I won’t be able to afford to re-sign my lease unless there’s a major spike in sales, and based on everything I know, the interest in a wedding would lead to exactly that.”