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“I loved them.” The words hang in the air and I squeeze his hand tighter. “I loved them so fiercely, but it wasn’t enough.”
“I know,” I whisper.
“Sometimes I wonder how people walk around every day, when they’ve lost so much. I buried myself for a long time in alcohol, then I knew that wasn’t doing anything except making my family worry, so I threw myself into work instead. Thinking that I could mask the pain by making Nina and Oliver proud of me if I made something of myself. What ended up happening was years of torture, putting everyone else first and burning the candle at both ends.”
I want to hold him so badly. I want to take his pain away. “I can see that. Sometimes work distracts us from what’s really going on around us, but it also isn’t healthy in the long run. Have you ever talked to anyone?”
He shifts in his seat. “Like a therapist?”
I nod.
“A couple of times, at the insistence of my mother. She likes nobody, but she loved Nina. Like you, she had a warmth to her that people just gravitate toward. I called her my sunbeam. She had the ability to make everyone around her feel better, like you do, Krasavitsa.” He laughs without humor. “I’m sorry to unload all of this on you.”
I bring his hand up to my mouth and kiss his knuckles like he’s done to me so many times. “Unload all you like. I’m here, Khristian. There is nothing you can say that would change the way I feel about you.”
He stares at me. “I think this is why I’m so enamored by you, my little rose. It isn’t that you remind me of Nina — you’re nothing alike in looks, but in personality you’re the same with your values and how you treat people.” He brushes his hand over my hair and I feel like the most precious thing in the world. “You’re kind, funny, beautiful and so warm. You’re a giver, not a taker, and there are not many givers left in the world.”
I stroke his cheek and he closes his eyes to my touch. “Let me take care of you,” he whispers. “I know you can take care of yourself, but I have this need in me to provide for the woman I love, to nurture her. I’ve always had it, but it’s laid dormant. I haven’t said I love anyone in over fifteen years.”
I search his face. This man is breaking me. “Oh, Khristian,” I say, the tears rolling down my face. “I love you so much.” I release my seatbelt and fold myself into his arms, crawling into his lap.
A tear escapes and I wipe it with my thumb. This man is so tough on the outside, so bad ass, but deep down, he has so much depth to him that has been repressed for so long.
He kisses my hair and I move back to look at him, cupping his face.
“You’ve guarded your heart for so long, moya lyubov.”
His brow narrows. “Since when did you speak Russian?”
I smile. “I’m learning.”
“My love? Hmm, I like that. Say it again.”
“Moya lyubov.”
He kisses me, his mouth is gentle, barely a whisper on my lips.
“I want to make you happy, Khristian,” I say, unashamed to tell him how I feel. “I want us to really give this a try.”
“I want that too.”
That brings me back to the whole driving thing. “Do you think you’ll be able to drive again someday?” He knows what I’m not saying… with me in the car.
He kisses my nose. “I think it’s something I need to try. Would that make my little rose happy?”
“It’s about what makes you happy, too,” I tell him.
“What makes me happy is thinking that I have a future with you.” His words hit me like a freight train. “Taking the sex out of it and how we met. It’s easy to be head over heels with someone when the sex is amazing and new. But that first night we met, I had just as much enjoyment watching you eat that burger and you telling me about yourself.”
I smile softly. “But I’m so boring.”
Finally, I’m rewarded with a real smile back. “You are far from boring, Imogen.”
“Do you still want kids?” I hold my breath when the words leave my mouth.
He swallows hard and I can see what a difficult question that is for him. Finally, he says, “Yes. I always wanted a bunch of kids. It was always my dream to settle down young like my mother and father and have a happy marriage. It just didn’t quite work out that way.”
“You’re still young, Khristian. You’re only forty-two.”
