I’m still not looking at Luca, because I’m terrified of what I will see.
I can feel his gaze burning on my face, though.
“I never say anything because it’s my baggage. I’m scared that I’ll scare people off with this-” I pause, sucking in a breath that catches in my chest, “I’m just not good enough for real love. Any kind of love. Not from friends. Not from family. Not from anyone.”
My vision blurs, and my cheeks are wet.
Crap, crap, crap!
I can’t stop the tears, and it makes them fall faster.
My nose stings, and my whole body feels like it has been turned inside out.
Luca’s hand gently brushes the tears from my face.
His thumb is warm against my skin, a small anchor in a storm that has been raging in me for years.
I break.
All the walls I’ve built come down, and it is just me, curled in on myself.
He pulls me into a hug and doesn’t say anything.
He doesn’t rush me.
He doesn’t ask me to stop.
He doesn’t force me to look at him.
He just holds me.
His hand moves slowly on my back, up and down, in a comforting pattern.
I press my face into his chest and notice his breathing is steady.
Slow, like a lullaby for my panic.
“Tilly,” he pulls away gently. “Look at me.”
I shake my head. The word no presses against my teeth, but nothing comes out.
I feel dense.
“Please?”
It isn’t even a command, more like a plea.
I force myself to lift my eyes to him.
I probably look horrible, and it makes me want to throw up.
His face blurs through the wetness, and I almost look away again.
Crying in front of someone feels like peeling my skin off and laying it on the table for them to inspect. It makes me want to sink into the floorboards, to disappear where no one can find me.
But his eyes don’t flinch.
“None of what you said about yourself is true,” he says finally.
