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I clutch my dress and blurt out again, “Halo’s sleeping.”
It’s true.
She is sleeping. I just fed her, changed her and now she’s out. Which won’t last long because she’ll need another feeding soon but for now, my baby’s sleeping and hopefully dreaming of magical things.
Meanwhile I have no idea what I’m doing except that I’m very, very mad at him and if he doesn’t do anything about it soon, I’ll punch him.
I will.
“I know,” he says as if he heard what I was thinking.
“What?”
“That she’s sleeping.”
“How do you know?” I ask uselessly, belligerently.
And a very subtle sparkle of amusement enters his eyes. “Because I know her schedule. Because I’ve known it for the last four weeks.”
I know he knows it.
He knows everything, doesn’t he?
Then how come he doesn’t know that I’m so mad at him right now? That I’ve been slowly getting madder and madder over the past few days?
And maybe I shouldn’t be but I can’t help it.
I inhale sharply and wipe my trembling, sweaty hands over my thighs. “Well then, I’ll go catch some sleep too. Because all the books always say that I should sleep when Halo sleeps.” I nod to emphasize it. “So I’ll leave the kitchen now and —”
“Not so fast.”
My breaths falter then.
My ballerina heart skips a beat because suddenly all his gorgeous features sharpen. His cheekbones become more chiseled and his jaw, stubbled and obviously irritating to him, morphs into a sleeker V.
God, he’s so beautiful like this.
Despite my anger at him, I can’t stop admiring his gorgeous, predatory face. I press my spine against the counter, all thrilled and breathless. “What?”
At my question, he finally steps over the threshold and I swallow.
His long legs prowl toward me with a lazy and yet somehow determined quality and oh my God, is he going to?
Is he going to finally tell me now?
When he reaches me, which doesn’t take more than three seconds anyway, he dips his head and asks in that voice again, “How’s the pain?”
The pain.
He’s asking me about the pain?
To be fair, he asks me every day. He asks me if my stitches hurt, if I’m okay to move around more. If I’m tired more than usual and all that.
But I’ve been getting better and I thought…
I thought he’d do it. He’d finally tell me.
Because it’s been four weeks.
Four weeks, okay?
Since I found out that he loves me after all. That he’s loved me for two years. Since I found out that he still keeps that sweater I made for him in the trunk of his Mustang.
And yes, things have been rocky for us with Halo. Some nights I felt like I would die without her. My body felt so empty and my heart felt so empty too and I’d cry and cry, hugging her little booties and her sweaters that she hadn’t gotten to wear yet.
Reed felt the same way.
He would hold me in bed and I’d burrow my face in his chest and wet his t-shirts with my tears. He’d kiss my forehead, caress my hair, rub my back and I know he never cried but I felt his chest shudder. I felt him swallow and gulp down his emotions with every breath he took.
But for the past week, she’s been on the mend and we could finally see the light at the end of the tunnel. We at last knew that the wait was over and we could bring her home.
But the wait isn’t over, is it?
Not when it comes to me and him.
He hasn’t said anything. He hasn’t even hinted at anything. He knows that I’m leaving for Juilliard in a few weeks but again, he hasn’t mentioned it at all. He still lives at the hotel even though he spends all his time at the glass house and in this moment, I realize that maybe it will never be over.
This wait.
Maybe he will never say anything. Maybe he’ll never realize.
And just like that all my anger goes away and is replaced by so much misery and heartbreak. Despite telling myself a million times over the past months that I’ll take my happiness in the fact that he loves Halo, I just want to curl into a ball and disappear.
“It’s fine,” I reply, looking down at his collarbone, his stubbly throat. “It’s much better than when you asked me yesterday. And much, much better than the day before when you also asked me. I’m getting better every day, Roman. You don’t have to worry so much about me. Now can I go please?”
“No.”
I sigh, keeping my eyes on his throat. “Fine, what do you want?”
The sooner he tells me, the sooner I can go and try to get myself under control. So I’m ready and back to myself when Halo wakes up hungry. Maybe I can take a long, hot shower and cry there so I’m all cried out for a few hours while I take care of Halo.
