Twenty-Two #3
“Mat,” he said and wiped a hand down his face, leaving a short trail of chocolate on his cheek.
Not seeming to notice, he went on, “I love you. I’ve wanted to tell you so a hundred times, and hoped a hundred more that perhaps you loved me too.
But I couldn’t, because . . .” His brows contracted as though in pain.
“. . .right now, I can’t be the man you deserve.
I can’t be honest with the world and I can’t ask you to lie.
But I can’t keep lying to you either, so even if this admission means goodbye for now, I . . . needed you to know.”
Words that only further proved how utterly wrong I had been, how foolish and self-righteous in my misplaced anger.
This should never have been about my moral superiority, but about meeting him where he was so I could give him what he needed.
And as the final relief of letting it all go flooded through me, I couldn’t contain a spreading grin that was fast turning into another laugh.
Having just poured his heart out in the most eloquent speech, Miles looked on in growing horror. “Oh my god, why are you laughing?”
“Because I’m a total monster and let you say all that with a smear of chocolate on your face.”
He swiped his hand down his clean cheek, glanced at it then wiped the other, both reddening. “Mat!”
“I’m sorry!” I laughed, wrapping my arms around him and squeezing hard. “It was a beautiful speech, and made me so happy I couldn’t help it. You are the man I need, Miles, and you always have been, even if I was too stupid to see it.”
When I pulled back enough to look up into his eyes, I found him frowning at me. “What do you mean?”
“I mean that I should have told you every single time I wanted to. That I should never have made you feel like you couldn’t.
God, I am so, so sorry. I was so busy being angry at you for not coming out that I never even asked you why.
Was so caught up in my own problems that I never thought for a moment that your life could be even the tiniest bit hard.
I was selfish and scared, and every time I wanted to hold you close, I pushed you away.
At first, because I thought you only wanted easy sex from me, that you were just nice and—”
“You mean better at hiding things,” he murmured.
“Definitely that, but even when I started to suspect—hope, really—that maybe you loved me too, I still pushed you away because I was so tangled up in the idea that it would be some moral failing if I didn’t.
That it was one thing to be a secret fuck and entirely another to be a secret boyfriend, but—” I froze abruptly, that word one we hadn’t spoken.
And now I had just blurted it like it was a foregone conclusion.
“That is . . .” I hastily backtracked. “. . .if that’s what you would want to be, I mean—”
It was his turn to laugh. “Of course that’s what I want, Mat! What else?”
“I don’t know! I just didn’t want to presume, all right?”
“Please presume,” he said, nuzzling into my neck. “Don’t just want things, take them. I’m yours if you’ll have me.”
Those words shivered through me and I tightened my hold. “Yes. God, yes, I want you to be mine, Miles. I have no idea how we’ll make it work, but we will.”
“We,” he murmured. “I like the sound of ‘we’. And having the ridiculously unpredictable Matteo Russo in my corner.” He added the last bit with a laugh.
“I still can’t believe you chose this moment.
Here was me thinking of a moonlit hangout by the pool or a nice dinner or some shit, and you aren’t even here twenty-four hours and crash in with a baking-fiasco I love you. ”
“I was trying to wait for the right time! I almost said it at least five times so far today and then decided hey, after I baked you brownies would be nice.”
Miles shook his head, grinning. “That plan lasted a long time.”
“Shut up,” I said, and kissed him. Sliding still chocolatey hands up into his hair, I gently pressed him back against the cupboards, full of relief, my heart humming.
After so many doubts, we’d finally reached this point I had barely let myself imagine, so fragile and unbelievable it had seemed.
And now I could kiss him like it meant something, soft and tender, I love you, I love you, I love you chanted into every touch of our lips.
When at last I pulled away, he looked stunned with the force of it, his eyes wide and disbelieving – a Miles shorn for a moment of his usual armour.
“You’ve never kissed me like that before,” he said.
I trailed a finger along his jaw. “I’ve never been allowed to kiss you like that before. Would have been a bit of a giveaway that I had feelings for you, don’t you think?”
“Yeah. Just a bit.” He smiled, but there was a haunted look in his eyes, like he was afraid of the depth of his own feelings. I could relate, his very existence like a blade to my heart that went on slicing me open.
“Maybe we should finish cleaning the floor now,” I said, and stepped back to give us both some space to breathe.
“Definitely,” he agreed. “But first . . .” He caught my hand as I moved away, his long fingers entwining with mine.
“That apology before . . . I appreciate it. A lot. I can’t really blame you though.
I sure look like I have my whole perfect life sorted from the outside.
You weren’t to know how good I’ve gotten at living a lie. ”
I squeezed his hand. “Sure, but I still should have done better. Many times.”
“Which is why it means a lot to me that you said it. Wow.” He laughed and let me go. “This is way more honest communication than I’m used to. After last night too. I’m not sure I’m a fan.”
“We’ve got time to work on it.”
“That’s not the kind of hard work I want to do this week,” he purred, his come-fuck-me eyes brightening. Because he would always rather bury his emotions in physical needs.
“You know, we can do both,” I said. “I’m versatile, remember?”