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“But they could hurt you.”
“I fucking hope they do. Mark me up. Make me fucking bleed for you.”
“Why do we always have to have pain? Why do you crave the harshness, Nico?” she whispers, running her hands through my hair and piercing me with her gaze.
I don’t know how to answer her in the way I think she needs me to, but I do the best I can with what I know. “Because the pain means it's real. It’s the only way I know how to let you in.”
Tears well in her eyes, and she grips the hair at the nape of my neck and brings my forehead to hers.
“You don’t have to be tough with me. You can breathe, Nico. Just breathe. I need to know you are capable of love.”
Does she love me? She didn’t directly say it, but I suddenly feel the earth tilting on its axis, and the air from my lungs feels like it's being sucked out of me by the Grim Reaper himself. I can learn to like her, but am I capable of love?
“Nico, it's okay. Breathe. We just need to focus on the now. Come back to me.” Emelia kisses the tip of my nose, then my lips.
“I don’t know how to love, and I don’t know what it will do to me if you teach me how.”
“Don’t let me teach you anything. Just exist with me. Learn who I am, and let me learn you, and whatever happens, we will figure it out.” The way she is still so soft when the entire foundation of us has been hostile and built on the vilest form of disrespect and disdain blows my mind.
“Take us home. Take me to bed. Just let me and you have time. That’s all I ask.” I almost feel… jealous… angry… that she isn’t telling me she loves me. That’s a part of her I don’t have yet, and I want it all, even if it’s suffocating me and scaring the living fuck out of me.
I found the one thing in this world I am afraid of. Nico Dante Valiente, the boss of the Seattle mafia, fears the love of Emelia Rene Valiente. My own fucking wife.
“I can’t wait for home.”
“If you want to have me at all, you will need to let me in emotionally, Nico. I can’t just keep giving you my body to mask our feelings. They have to rise to the surface,” she tells me, moving back enough to separate our touch. I want to pull her back in and demand she let me show her what I’m feeling, because I can’t show her with words. I only know how to speak with my body.
“Take me to lunch,” she urges, soft still.
“Yes, let's eat.”
She nods.“Okay.”
Stepping onto the foam-padded floor, she moves to the bench, and I grip the wall and drop my head back between my shoulders, breathing in and out deeply. Trying to regain some equilibrium, I hear her feminine voice tell me she’s going to use the restroom. I nod and give a slight smile before she disappears. I would watch her walk away, but I’m afraid if I do, I will be a weak fool and crawl after her on hands and fucking knees.
I had planned to take us to a few more places after she got to show me how she skates, but maybe I need to step back and let us take a second. She emerges a minute later and smiles softly at me, pointing to the booth, then putting her hand to her ear in the international sign for telephone.
I nod and watch her make her way over to it, and then she’s by my side once again, her phone in hand. I grab her bag, and she slides her cell into the pocket I found it in earlier, and then I take her hand, a gesture I would normally only do if we had people watching us, but this one happens out of habit. I go with it, not wanting to be a complete dick and yank my hand away from hers.
We get to the car, and she climbs in. When I reach in and buckle her up, she laughs. “My hands aren’t broken. I can do that.”
“I know you can, but I want to do it.”
She rolls her eyes.
“Third denial.”
She remembers our conversation before we went in, and she giggles.“Third time’s the charm. I bet the payoff will be… explosive.”
“Nice play on words, principessa.” I shut the door, round the car, and climb in. Music plays in the background, and I ask her where she would like to eat.
“Anything you're craving? I had dinner reservations, but clearly it's too early, seeing as it’s not even noon,” I tell her, driving into downtown Seattle.
“We can have dinner in bed.” She winks, and I smirk, biting my lip and gripping her thigh hard.
“Naughty.”
“You aren't complaining,” she retorts.
