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“I want everything." She shakes our joined hands for emphasis. Her gaze is direct and open. "Everything."
"It's yours." I tell her right away. And her smile turns into a grin.
She grasps my hands and her smile softens as do her eyes. "I'm so sorry about Ghana. I'm sorry I started off with the lie about my name. But I'd decided that before I even met you. Porsha, that's Bambi's real name -"
I laugh out loud at that. "Oh my God, who chooses the name Bambi."
"She thought it was sexy." She laughs.
"Why Emma?" I ask her.
"She's one of the most misunderstood characters in all of literature, in my humble opinion, and I’ve always liked her a lot.”
&
nbsp; "You mean Jane Austen's Emma?" I ask and shake my head in awe. "Wasn’t she also a compulsive liar?”
“She was misunderstood.” She pokes me in the rib with her elbow and I laugh.
My laughter fades in a heartbeat when I see how solemn her expression has become again.
"I swear to you,” she implores as she looks at me with bright, earnest eyes. “That nothing else between us was false. Every kiss, every touch, every laugh was borne of real feelings and I hope you can forgive me. For not telling you the truth. I didn't expect any of that to happen. I didn't think anything could grow in such a short amount of time.” My heart gives a little “boom.” Those words could have been mine.
Her smile turns rueful, “I didn't think anything or anyone could penetrate the walls I'd constructed and so when you slid right past my defenses, I didn't know what to do with it. I didn’t think I could tell you all of this. So, I didn’t come back the next day and I knew you wouldn’t be able to find me if you decided to come looking.”
Her eyes come to me now. The normally clear gold of them clouded by trepidation. " You deserve better. I know you probably think..."
“I think you're a dream come true." I tell her, honestly and earnestly. “I'm honored you told me. I want to know the rest of it." I squeeze her hand.
"There's so much...I want to say." She says quietly but squeezes it back.
"You've got to talk to your family.” I insist, without thinking first.
Her eyes dim, her smile fades and she steps back.
"I can't. That's the one thing I know I cannot do. At least not now," her voice is resolute.
"But you told me."
"You asked." She shoots back.
"How can they ask if they have no clue something is wrong?"
She turns to face me. Takes my other hand in hers and steps into me.
"Harry. I've been a walking wound for five years. They know something is wrong.”
"Would you be too afraid to ask them what was wrong?" She blinks up at me like I've splashed cold water in her eyes.
"No. I wouldn't." She says her voice contemplative. "It's been a rough couple of years for all of us. I've sort of been the one without a crisis that needed attention." Her eyes drift and lose focus as if she's recalling something.
At my incredulous scoff she looks at me again.
"Lilly. You're amazing, but I have to break it to you. You’ve been an actual crisis for a lot longer than a couple of years. Maybe they’ve had their own problems, too but that doesn’t mean they can’t be there for you. Give them a chance"
She rolls her eyes dismissively, but I see her lips fight the urge to curve upward at the corners.
"It's your turn to lean on them."
