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“Because I want to be with you. Always.”
“Oh.” This was real, then. It was happening.
His gaze searched her face. “If you tell me there’s no hope, if you tell me you don’t want to be with me, that’s fine.”
“What do you mean, that’s fine?” Felicity burst out. “How can you travel across the world and say if I turn you down that will be fine?”
He bit his lip, his eyes amused and pained at the same time. “I’m lying. It won’t be fine. It will be gut wrenchingly awful. Heartbreaking. But I will survive. And I won’t be afraid anymore.”
She frowned. “Afraid? In what way?”
“Afraid to live. To follow my dreams.” He paused, took a breath. “Whatever happens next, the truth is you’ve changed me, cracked me open and let the light pour in. Made me realise what it means to feel totally present, not constantly guarding myself against pain. Felicity,” his hands tightened around hers, his gaze forcing her to meet his, “you taught me you can live with pain. Because pain isn’t what kills you. It’s the fear of living that kills you. Slowly and very, very painfully.” He planted another kiss, just to the right of her lips. “But having said all that, every cell in my body hopes you will want me too.”
She pulled away slightly, still holding his hands as tears welled up. “I do, oh, I do, but—” Last night she’d written the last segment of her letter. It had been gut-wrenching. But in the end, it was a simple, sad truth.I can’t have children, Oliver. And you deserve to be a father. That’s why I ran away.
After which she’d cried and cried with Digby held hard against her chest until his fur was soaked and he jumped off her lap in disgust.
Before she could say more, Oliver tilted her head up, and this time his lips found hers, full and sweet and tender.
Everything melted into Oliver.
“You want to be with me.” His words held an incredulous joy when they finally pulled apart.
She put a finger to his lips. “Yes, more than anything in the world. But first you must read the letter I wrote you. And if then you change your mind and take back all these words, I will understand.”
* * *
They drovein her little car back to her flat with Oliver holding one of her hands tight in his, reluctantly letting it go at moments when she needed both to navigate the traffic.
“I do have your address,” he admitted. “I got it From Henry. And I debated whether to meet you at the school or your home, but my reasoning went, if you rejected me in a public place it would feel easier to walk away.”
How could she ever reject him?
The flat was empty when they got there. Being Friday, Evie and Felix were probably at the Slug and Lettuce, and wondering where she was. She’d text them soon. But first, she opened her dressing table drawer and retrieved the letter, her thoughts falling over themselves.
Her fear that he would reject her had driven her to run, and now, how ironic, he’d told her he’d shed his own fear. Because of her. He’d come all the way from Australia to be with her. She had to trust in this—inthem.
She had to trust that they would find a way through this.
She tried to control the tremor in her fingers as she handed the pages to him. “I have to leave the room while you read it,” she gulped out. Oliver sank onto her bed, nearly crushing Digby, who jumped to the ground and stalked out after her.
Felicity went and put the kettle on. Digby stood in the doorway and stared at her indignantly, tail swishing before exiting through the cat flap. With clasped hands, she waited, her palms sweating, staring out the window at the tubs of herbs and trays of Felix’s seedlings.
When she heard his footsteps, her heart jumped into her throat.
Two arms circled her waist, his chest against her back, strong and reassuring.
He rested his chin on the top of her head and her whole body wilted against him, as if there were no longer bones to tether it together.
“You’ve read all of it?” she asked in a whisper.
“Yes.”
“Right to the end?”
“Yes.”
Planting a kiss next to her ear, he whispered, “You think I didn’t suspect that could be the case?”
