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“Because it took you so much courage to love me when I was so difficult to love.”
I take a step closer and capture her gaze with mine, daring her to look away. Our height difference is significant enough now that she has to tilt her head back to look at me.
“Listen to me, Theodora Dorokhova, and listen well. You are not difficult to love—you haveneverbeen difficult to love. Whatever happened in your life to make you believe you might be is a tragedy and a betrayal, a crime against truth. Whoever told you or made you believe you’re difficult to love is a liar. You’re not difficult to love. You are so easy to love that I fell in love with you without even meaning to, I fell in love with you even when you wouldn’t let me, and I keep falling in love with you every day. I don’t even think I’ll ever stop falling in love with you. In fact, I fell in love with you earlier, when I saw you in that summer dress, and I fell in love with you five minutes ago when you were talking about James Hook. And I believe I shall fall in love with you in a few minutes when I take your hand and take you into the tree to kiss you where nobody can see us and get on my knees to worship you the way I know best. And I’ll fall in love with you this summer, when we go swimming in the lake and take road trips to Oxford, and I’ll fall in love with you every night when I take you to my bed or when you decide to be stubborn and takemetoyourbed instead. And I’ll fall in love with you when you finish that damnable pirate romance book, and I’ll fall in love with you when we’re in university and you’ll be angry at me for looking down my nose because I’m studying philosophy and you’re not. I’ll keep falling in love with every part of you because every part of you is perfectly, utterly lovable.”
Tears blossom in her eyes. Deep inside my chest, my heart aches because I know that a part of her needed to hear that.
Theodora has probably always believed she wasn’t easy to love—and I suspect part of her will always believe that insidious, foul little lie.
It doesn’t matter. I’ll attack that lie every single day, I’ll fight it tooth and claw until it’s completely gone, until Theodora has forgotten it ever even existed.
“Maybeyoushould become the writer,” she says in a small voice, smiling through her tears.
“I’m going to throw my life away on academia and education—remember? Besides.” I swipe away her tears with a thumb and take her hand, drawing her deeper into the treeline. “I don’t need to become a writer—I already have a writer girlfriend.”
“A writer girlfriend?” she asks, following me. “Since when?”
“Since forever. Since Christmas. Since today.” The wind blows her hair across her face, and I push it away with a laugh. “She’s a little elusive, this girlfriend of mine.”
“But I think she loves you very much.” Theodora holds my arm in hers and stands on her tiptoes to whisper in my ear. “I think she loves you and has wanted to be your girlfriend for a long time.”
“She loves me?” I ask in a casual tone.
“Oh, she’s ridiculously in love with you.”
I whisper back. “Do you think she would like to be seduced amongst the trees?”
“Yes. Often.”
“Then I must begin at once.”
I catch her in my arms like a princess in a fairy tale, and she throws her arms around my neck with a surprised yelp.
“I can walk, you know!”
I kiss her lips. “But why would you when I can carry you?”
She laughs and kicks her legs, throwing back her head. “Now I really feel like an innocent maiden being captured by a handsome pirate.”
“Who would have thought my girlfriend would have such frivolous fantasies?”
She taps her finger over my lips. “Less judging, more ravishing.”
“Yes, my beautiful darling.”
“Thank you, my handsome love.”
I stop, and we stare at each other for a second.
“Too much?” she asks.
“No. Never.”
She laughs, and I kiss her laughing mouth, and my heart is full of that perfect, luminous sound—the sound of Theodora Dorokhova laughing.
