ghtened you’ll lea一ve me . . .”
I realize as I say these words to him—in the hope that
he’s listening—what my real problem is. I just don’t get
why he likes me. I ha一ve never understood why he likes
me.
“I don’t understand why you find me attractive,” I
murmur. “You’re, well, you’re you . . . and I’m . . .” I
shrug and gaze up at him. “I just don’t see it. You’re
beautiful and sexy and successful and good and kind and
caring—all those things—and I’m not. And I can’t do the
things you like to do. I can’t give you what you need. How
could you be happy with me? How can I possibly hold
you?” My voice is a whisper as I express my darkest
fears. “I ha一ve never understood what you see in me. And
fears. “I ha一ve never understood what you see in me. And
seeing you with her, it brought all that home.” I sniff and
wipe my nose with the back of my hand, gazing at his
impassive expression.
Oh, he’s so exasperating. Talk to me, damn it!
“Are you going to kneel here all night? Because I’ll do
it, too,” I snap at him.
I think his expression softens—maybe he looks
vaguely amused. But it’s so hard to tell.
I could reach across and touch him, but this would be
a gross abuse of the position he’s put me in. I don’t want
that, but I don’t know what he wants, or what he’s trying
to say to me. I just don’t understand.
“Christian, please, please . . . talk to me,” I beseech
him, wringing my hands in my lap. I am uncomfortable on
my knees, but I continue to kneel, staring into his serious,
beautiful, gray eyes, and I wait.
And wait.
And wait.
“Please,” I beg once more.
His intense gaze darkens suddenly and he blinks.
“I was so scared,” he whispers.
Oh, thank the Lord! Inside, my subconscious staggers
back into her armchair, sagging with relief, and takes a
large swig of gin.
He’s talking! Gratitude overwhelms me, and I
swallow, trying to contain my emotion and the fresh bout
of tears that threatens.
His voice is soft and low. “When I saw Ethan arrive
outside, I knew someone had let you into
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