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She shakes her head and bites her lower lip. I pull my hand away quickly, too tempted by that small movement. She's not mine. She doesn't want to be.
"You're too good for me, Jonas," she whispers. "You deserve to marry someone wonderful. Not someone like me."
My heart clenches. I press my palms together and rotate, realizing I've made a mistake. She doesn't think we match, not because of me, but because of her.
Tingles fill my chest. "I think you're wonderful, Janey." I wet my lips, gathering my thoughts. There's still a chance. "I look for you every day. Seeing you, and being around you, makes me very happy. I think I could make you happy too, if I were your husband."
Her lips press together tightly, and she gives me a look I don't like. "You deserve to find someone you love, Jonas, and marry them. Not sacrifice yourself for a woman in a mess of her own making."
I scowl at her, a little frustrated. "I already told you I love you. I told you that taking care of the people I love is not a burden. Why would I not marry you?"
Her mouth drops open again. I have seen that expression too often tonight. But soon, it turns into something that makes my skin crawl. "Jonas, you're so incredibly sweet. But you don't love me. Not really."
I turn away from her and climb out of the car. I'd like to run away, somewhere far from here, and forget this stupid conversation.
Or maybe I'll go upstairs and play with the hamsters.
That would help too.
But I don't run. Because I'm a grown man. Instead, I open Janey's door for her. I will escort her upstairs to one of the vacant apartments, then go play with the hamsters. Their fur is so soft it feels soothing on my fingers and makes my brain fuzzy. I could use fuzzy.
She climbs out, hugging her purse and coat to her chest, her head bowed. When she's clear of the door, I slam it closed. It's not nearly as satisfying as I hoped it would be. All I manage to do is startle her, which I apologize for.
I head for the elevator, but her footsteps don't follow me. She just stands next to the van, looking at me with her big eyes. I walk...okay, I stomp. I stomp back to her and stand in front of her, arms folded.
"I'm sorry I upset you, Jonas. But I'm right. It's been a long night, and I'm sure you're just exhausted. You'll feel differently tomorrow."
My anger bubbles up. She's right. I am exhausted. And worried.
And really offended. Why do people keep assuming I don't know myself?
I drop my arms and step into her. She moves back until she's pressed against the van. She swallows as her wide eyes lock on my face.
"Do I look like a child to you Janey?" I ask softly, crowding her until our bodies are nearly touching. "Do I seem feeble? Incapable? Maybe I look like a man who doesn't know his own mind? Who's stupid?" My face gets closer, and closer to hers until our noses are nearly touching. "Do I?"
A little gasping breath escapes her mouth. Then a small shake of her head. "N-n-no."
I give in and let my nose run along hers. Weird. I didn't picture my nose having that many nerve endings. Apparently, it does, and they're all connected straight to my groin.
"I know exactly who I am, Janey. And what I want. I don't need time. I'm not confused. So do me the courtesy of not talking to me like I'm stupid. Too many people have done that to me in my life."
I force myself to step back, a glance at the small cut on her cheek making it easy to rein in my anger. She's hurt. She's had a crappy night. And I don't want to do anything more to hurt her.
She rubs her hand up and down her arm. "How can you love me? I...it doesn't make sense."
I cross my arms again, this time to stop myself from reaching for her. "I didn't notice you before. Until Colton brought you to the office that night, I didn't really see you."
"I know."
"Then you should also know that ever since that night, I see you. Really see you. I see your softness. Your kindness. I see your flaws and I see your compassion. And for the last month I've seen your worry. I see all of you Janey. At this point, I don't remember what it felt like to not love you."
The little lines between her eyebrows deepen. "But we're so different."
"Yes. You are a small, round, lovely woman. I am a large, odd, very rich man."
She laughs and sniffs and puts her bag and coat on the floor, stepping toward me. "You're a little odd. And yes, I am smaller and round. But I'm not that small."
Slowly, I reach for her hand, mentally jumping up and down when she lets me take it. I press our palms together, showing her how my fingers can fold over hers. "To me, you're small and fragile."
