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Finally, the door is open, and she is standing in front of me, a dark green, oversized jumper covering her till mid-thigh, long dark waves hanging damp on her shoulders.
I feel my eyes wander, and I scold myself. Not now.
I try to put some semblance of order in my thoughts and find my voice, but she beats me to it.
“What are you doing here, Devon?”
I feel my eyebrows shoot up. “Really, you are going to ask?”
She looks down, shrugging. “I… I’m sorry. Okay? I know it was cowardly of me to just… slink out like that, but…”
“You need time,” I finish for her, my voice low and gruff.
She nods. “Yes… exactly. So if you understand that, why are you here?”
I snort. “I never said anything about understanding it. I merely repeated what was written in that stupid text.”
She glares at me; her steely eyes are darker than usual. "Stupidtext?"
I place my hands on her shoulders and move her to the side so I can walk past her and get inside her flat. The last thing I want is to discuss our business in the middle of the hall. I close the door firmly behind me. "Yes, love. Stupid.I’ll call you, really? After what we shared, that’s all the reassurance you can spare me? Don’t I deserve more? Don’t we both, Lynn?”
I reach for her, but she puts distance between us. “That’s it, Devon. We shared something, but what was it?”
"I think I've made myself more than clear on this subject, Lynn. What's going on? I mean… yes, I get it. Everything is happening very fast, and you don't really recall how we got here, but yesterday and even this morning, you were willing to see where things could go. What changed?"
She looks up at me, tears in her eyes, and I feel a hand squeezing my heart. She shrugs, a shaky sigh leaving her lungs. "I'm scared…"
I pull her to me, enveloping her in my arms, and there it is. The feeling of rightness, of belonging, even if tempered by sadness and a little bit of foreboding. "Of what, love? Of me? Of this?"
I feel her head as it nods on my chest. “You keep calling me love… you say you love me… but what if… what if what we shared is nothing more than an attraction fuelled by frustration and washed down with too much alcohol? What is it going to be left when you sober from this… this fog of lust, and then I'm in too deep?"
I can barely hear her speak. Her voice is trembling just as much as her body is.
I push her a little away from my chest, still keeping her in the circle of my arms. “Look at me, Lynn. I’m never going to sober up, not from the love I feel for you.”
She shakes her head. “How can you know? How can you know that once the novelty wears off, we won’t start being at each other’s throats again?”
I cup her face in both hands, making her look up at me. “I just know, love. I know that we’ll be okay. You’ll see.”
She pushes away from me. “I don’t know if I want to see, Devon!”
“Why?” I ask; my voice wooden, my tongue dry. Cold fear gripping me.
Have I been reading her wrong?
What if she is not simply confused as I thought?
What if she simply doesn't believe in us because she doesn't feel what I feel?
No. It can't be. I know how she feels because I felt it in every kiss, every touch we shared.
She is just afraid.
Big, fat tears are rolling down her pink cheeks, making her look so frail, so defenseless. Nothing like my saucy, strong Lynn.
She huffs, angrily drying her tears. Mine is a fierce woman who doesn't like to feel weak. I love her for it, but I'll love her even more dearly now that she is feeling lost.
"You want to know why? God knows if I know! Maybe it's because this is all freaking me out. I… I hate you! Or at least that's what I've been telling myself for the last five years. I don't know how to act any differently. I don't know how to make this," she gestures between us, "Whatever it is, last. You know what I'm pretty sure about, though?"
