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“Let’s go.”
He nodded, understanding, putting a hand in the small of her back and propelling her towards the door before any well-intentioned parishioner could stop them.
The snow had thickened while they’d been inside, leaving a delicate coating on the cars outside. They walked in silence, their steps quick, until they reached her door.
The photographer had gone.
Claudia unlocked the front entrance and pushed it open, and Stavros was behind her.
“Did you mean what you said this afternoon?”
He didn’t misunderstand. He knew what she needed to know. “Absolutely, one hundred percent. I love you.”
Tears filled her eyes.
“I loved you when I thought you were only interested in partying and tanning and getting your name in the papers. Can you imagine how I feel about you now?” He cupped her face, brushing his lips against hers.
“The question is if you love me?” He asked it softly, gently, his eyes scanning hers. “Can you love me after what I’ve put you through? How I’ve treated you? Can you love me when I am so much older? Can you forgive me for not doing better by you?”
Claudia sobbed, and she wrapped her arms around his waist, pressing her head to his chest. “I can’t not love you,” she groaned. “It’s just the way I’m wired.”
He laughed, but it was a shaking, trembling sound. “Thank God. I seriously thought you might be trying to work out how to get rid of me.”
She shook her head and moved apart a little, just enough to look into his eyes. “But Stavros? I’m not … I meant what I said. I’m never going to be able to keep up with you. I’m …I’m worried you’ll get bored of me.”
“Bored of you? Not possible.” He dropped his arms and moved towards the stairs. “Wait.”
She watched as he took them two at a time, turning into her bedroom and reappearing a moment later with a present in his hands.
She knew, instinctively, what it was. The shape was one she had long feared.
A book.
She shook her head and spoke with a slow insistence. “You can’t change me. You can’t fix this.”
He handed it to her and she stared at him with frustration before ripping the wrapper off. It was, indeed, a book, with a pretty, old-fashioned cover.
She pushed it back at him.
“I can’t read that.”
“I know.” He caught her hands and held them in his. “Which is why I’ll read it to you.”
She blinked at him, a frown on her face. “Why?”
“Because I want to. Because I want to share everything with you. Because you will love the story and I want you to hear it. I want to be the one to tell it to you.”
Her heart turned over in her chest. This, total acceptance, was unexpected. He wasn’t trying to change her. He was trying to find a way to give her everything.
She let out a juddering sigh and bit down on her lip.
“I love you,” he said simply. “And I always will.”
The butterflies in her tummy took over her whole body, weakening her knees and strengthening her resolve.
“I lo
ve you back.” She lifted up on tiptoes and pressed a kiss to his lips.
