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“Do you trust me?” He cupped his hand over her cheek, reeling a little when she reached up and pressed her hand over his.
“I do, but I catch the way you look at me sometimes, like you don’t trust me. and I have myself to blame for that.” Her lips twisted into a grimace. “I wish I could offer you more, Blaine. I just don’t have the luxury of making plans right now. I can’t live up to my own hopes, let alone yours.”
“You don’t have to live up to anything.” His gut clenched at what she’d observed. His suspicion. His desire to figure her out.
“I couldn’t make Anthony happy, no matter how much I tried. What makes you think you won’t feel the same one day? After everything my family put you through, you’d be right to hold a grudge. I couldn’t blame you.”
His throat constricted, and a swell of remorse burned through his chest. She’d interpreted his concern over her welfare as a need to “hold a grudge.”
“Emilia, Anthony and I are two different people. I hope you can see that I want to help you, not hurt you.”
She shook her head, her attention shifting to the far-off wall, but he grabbed her shoulders and twisted her to face him again.
“Listen to me. Anthony was a miserable man long before he ever latched on to you. You don’t own his mistakes.”
“No. It’s more than that.” She pinched the bridge of her nose and squeezed her eyes shut. “I’m a mess, Blaine, and that is my fault. I’ll make you miserable, just like I did him. I can’t offer you any kind of consistency. Just put me under enough pressure, and I can’t even stay conscious. How much more pathetic can a person be?”
“About that, have you seen Dr. Richards yet? You being a ‘mess’ is still not your fault, but there might be things we can do to help you.”
“And what about your needs? An uncomplicated life. Someone who can support you, rather than the other way around all the time?”
He jumped out of his chair and pulled her up, cradling her face between his hands, their bodies pressed together. Making her look at him. Making her feel him. “You have no idea what I need, and if it isn’t yet clear enough, I need you. More than that, I want you. I’m all in, remember? Mess and everything.”
She shook in his hold, so he held her tighter, trying to convey that he had her and wouldn’t let go. There were a million ways to make a person feel safe, and right now, she needed to know he wouldn’t throw her to the wolves like everyone else had.
“These doubts of yours, the criticisms you inflict on yourself—they’re not you—and they’re not helping.” He kissed her forehead, her temple, her cheek. Anything to bring her former joy back. “Something’s wrong here, and if you can’t tell me, then promise you’ll find someone who’ll help. Speak to the doctor. Whatever you need to do. But please don’t tell me what we have isn’t enough to plan a future on. It is. It’s more than enough.”
She stared at him in complete silence, still shaking, a line of moisture trapped on the shelf of her lower eyelids.
He dropped his voice to a whisper, imploring her to hear him out again. “I don’t want more than what you’re ready to offer, whatever that is. If your plan is to scare me off or push me away, it won’t work. I’m not leaving.”
She blinked at him before finding her words. “You have no idea, Blaine. No idea.”
Her roughened tone spoke volumes, and he had no doubt what she said was true. There was stuff she kept to herself. That, and her husband had put her through hell. Blaine wasn’t so arrogant or foolish to pretend he understood or had all the tools to “fix” her. He’d already figured there was no fixing some things, not on his own, anyway. Emilia’s life thus far was a prime example.
“You’re right. I don’t understand.” He leaned down and touched his forehead to hers, attempting to impart even just a fraction of the tenderness she deserved but had never had in all their years apart. “I probably never will understand, not really, but I can still be here for you, and that’s one hell of a thing for anyone to have.”
She bit down. Eyes red. Chin trembling. “I wish I wasn’t like this.”
Her weak and breathy tone made his chest sting with a cutting kind of pain. Having him in her life caused her a new host of problems; his presence forced her to see all the ugliness that surrounded her, and he had only a tiny window into any of it. Still, she wasn’t pushing him away altogether, and that in itself was a gift.
Her gaze darted about his face, as though seeking a sign or an answer. He ran the pads of his thumbs over her cheeks and dropped a soft, quick kiss to her lips. “Let go, Emilia.”
Something in her expression shifted, her cheeks stiffening before releasing altogether, like she fought his words, only to realize she didn’t have to.
He pressed another kiss to her, this time on her forehead, then whispered against her skin. “Just for tonight, let me take care of you.”
The tension in her body released beneath his hold, and he felt her forehead move up and down against him in a nod. In the next beat, she sagged and gave a soft sigh. He took that as his cue to sweep her up, her arms quick to wrap around his shoulders and her legs draped over his forearms.
“To bed with you, Ms. Bonacci.”
And just like that, her light laughter spilled out and filled him with hope.
