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“You really want to know?” he asks.
“Yes!”
“The problem is I’m in love with you, Carly. And I’m fucking scared. This wasn’t supposed to happen.”
I’m stunned into silence. The sudden passion of his words sends a tremor through me, and I stop breathing entirely.
He loves me?
Heart pounding, I look across at him and am shocked to see his face is deeply pained, contorted by some private torment I cannot fathom.
Nick loves me?
I’ve been dying to hear those words and yet his declaration leaves me both excited and confused. Why should loving me be the cause of such anguish?
Taking ragged breaths, he reaches down and locks his fingers through mine. Instantly, a bolt of heat shoots up my arm and licks me all over. His grip is slightly frightening. So tight it feels he could snap my wrist off.
He fixes me with burning eyes. “That feeling you described, that connection between us, I felt it from the first moment I saw you. I’ve never believed in love at first sight, but it’s the only rational explanation.” He pauses then speaks in a choked voice. “Last Saturday was insane. The second we left the hotel and I said goodbye to you at the station, it felt like my life was going into freefall. I didn’t want to let you go, but I knew I had to.”
“Why?”
“Self-preservation,” he says bitterly. “I knew if I didn’t let you go then, I never would. And then there’d be no going back. I didn’t want to fall in love with you. I tried so hard to fight it, tried so hard to keep things professional between us, but you’ve gotten to me in a way no one else ever has. Your kindness, your sweetness, it hits me right here.” He takes my hand and presses it against his heart.
“But I don’t understand,” I whisper. “Why would you want to prevent yourself from being happy? Why is loving me so bad?”
He casts his eyes downwards. “Because I’m not right for you.”
“What are you talking about? Nick, you’re the best thing that’s ever happened to me! Don’t you think I should be allowed to decide what’s right for me?”
He gives a small, weak smile, but his eyes remain stormy. I can sense there’s a shadow hanging over him, something dark he’s hiding, but for the life of me, I can’t think what.
“I am not good enough, notworthy enough,”he says. “I don’t deserve you. There’s so much you don’t know about me.”
“Yeah, and there’s a lot you don’t know about me,” I counter. “I’m ready to swap notes whenever you are.”
Nick laughs mirthlessly. “Your naivety is endearing.”
I remain serious. “But isn’t that how all relationships start?With neither person knowing much about the other? That’s what makes it fun.” He still looks dubious. The stress is now getting beyond endurance; it’s time to lay my cards on the table. “I was living half a life before I met you,” I whisper. “I was drifting through darkness, numb to everything. It wasn’t a life; it was just existing, waiting for that day when the light is finally put out.” My lips start to quiver; I’ve never spoken so candidly before. “And then I had that one night with you,that one perfect night, and everything brightened. Please, don’t send me back to that dark place.”
Nick bites his fist to stifle a sob. My words have deeply moved him and he’s fighting back tears. I reach across and softly stroke the side of his face, caressing the raised bumps of his scar.
“Give me a chance,” I whisper. “I know I can make you happy. Please, don’t shut me out. If you let me in, I promise I won’t put a foot wrong. Okay, so you’ve got secrets.Haven’t we all? I don’t care about that. All I care about is you, being with you; please … I just need to have you in my life.”
“Are you sure this is definitely what you want?”
“Yes!”
He hesitates, prolonging the moment of suspense. Finally, he says with grim resignation, “Okay, if it’s sure to make you happy, we’ll give this relationship a chance. I can’t bear to see you so upset, and knowing I’m the cause tears me up inside.”
Silently, he kisses my hand, then starts up the engine and steers the Jaguar onto the main road. Within seconds, we’re moving through the rainy West London streets, heading toward an unknown destination. I ask no questions. I just keep my eyes on the road, watching the wipers dance back and forth across the windscreen.
“Put on your seatbelt,” he instructs.
I hastily strap myself in.
With a sombre expression, he turns on the heater and a blast of warmth fills the car. I lean back, my skin prickling with nervous energy. Where we’re going is anyone’s guess, but right now, I’m game for anything. Nothing matters as long as I’m with him.
Through half-closed eyes, I steal glances at his bruised knuckles as he turns the steering wheel. The skin around the bone is red and punctured with teeth marks but there’s no sign of blood.
