Page 89 of Robbin’ the Rich

"They're important to me," was the only thing I could get out.

"I know."

And he just sat there, cool as a cucumber, while I struggled to finally tell him what I felt.

"And you..." I took a deep breath and decided just to plow right through. "You're important to me too."

His breath caught and his eyes flew to mine. Maybe when you are telling someone like Micah your feelings it wasn’t so scary.

"You've become my favorite part of the day," I admitted quietly.

Micah closed his eyes. When he opened them again, there was so much affection there it made her chest ache.

"Robin… I have something I need⁠—"

But he could get out whatever he wanted to say, I needed to end this conversation. I wanted to crawl under a rock where emotional vulnerability couldn’t find me. "Forget I said that."

"Not a chance." He lifted our joined hands and pressed a kiss against my knuckles. The gesture was so absurdly sweet and did remind me who I was trusting with this unseen side of myself. It was Micah, he was safe.

"You've become the favorite part of my day too," he said.

After a minute he cleared his throat. "So. What time does your family obligation from hell end?"

I laughed. "Hopefully by six."

"Excellent."

"Why?"

"We should celebrate surviving."

"Celebrate how?"

Micah pretended to think about it. "Pie."

"Pie?"

"Thanksgiving pie tastes better when stolen from family gatherings."

I considered that. "I can get behind pie."

I curled closer against him and felt his arm tighten around me automatically.

"Six o'clock," she said.

"Six o'clock," he agreed.

19

MICAH

Istood in front of the bathroom mirror, adjusting the collar of a button-down shirt I only wore for family functions and church. The shirt itself was perfectly fine. The problem was that every time I put it on, I felt like I was fourteen again.

The version of me my parents preferred had always worn button-downs. He'd played guitar on Sunday mornings without complaint. He'd memorized scripture. He'd smiled for church photos and nodded through sermons and accepted every answer he was given. The older I got, the more I realized that version of me had mostly been trying to survive.

My phone buzzed against the counter.

Robin: How are you doing this morning? Your family nonsense begun yet?