37. Serenity
Chapter thirty-seven
Serenity
I 'm waiting for Declan after my shift in the exhibitionist’s hallway. The scene in front of me just finished and I'm enjoying watching this beautiful couple hold each other, whispering sweet nothings and gently caressing each other.
It's a beautiful thing to see. It's a beautiful thing, in general. Two people find each other out of the millions of other people in this world and learn to trust and communicate with each other, to negotiate and compromise and put the other person first. They have to learn to be vulnerable together, and trust that the other person won't hurt them, even though they likely will. Then to trust each other with their bodies, to trust that the other person owns their pleasure and then to fall in love.
I think about myself and Declan.
We kind of did everything backward. I trusted him before I really even knew him. And we put the sex before the vulnerability and love. I'm not upset by it. I love what he and I have, but I wonder if a relationship that was built backwards can really last? None of my romance books are written like this. Sure, you have the occasional one-night stand that turns into an accidental pregnancy or surprise baby, but that only forces the couple to work together to build a foundation of trust and affection.
"Enjoying the scene?" A male voice asks from behind me and I turn to find Harrison, arms crossed, leaning against the wall.
I nod. "I am. They're beautiful together."
I say motioning to the couple in front of us.
He nods in agreement but doesn't say anything else. I squirm under his scrutinizing gaze.
"Don't hurt him." It's a warning but there's no heat behind it.
"Excuse me?" I don't like the idea that he's insinuating I would do anything like that to Declan. I owe him my life.
"He's never really loved anyone before. He loved his fiancé, but it was a young, passionate love born out of need, not something that would have ever lasted."
I bristle, but he's also insinuating that Declan loves me. I've been in love with him for months now, and while I think he's fond of me, I'm not sure he's at the point of love. And maybe he never will be. And I think I'm okay with that.
I don't need grand gestures, or flowers, or date nights. I just want to feel safe, desired, protected. And I do with Declan. That's all I need.
"He doesn't love me," I reply, my eyes glued to the man's hand as it runs up and down the woman's arm, sweetly.
A sourness forms in the pit of my stomach. He doesn't love me. We have sex, we run, we work together, and he holds me at night, but he's never looked at me with the softness of the man in front of me. He's never caressed me like he can't help but touch me.
He's never even kissed me on the lips.
Shame is a heavy weight in my stomach. He doesn't love me.
"Yet," Harrison replies. I don't like this conversation. Harrison touches my arm, a request to look at him. When I turn to fully face him, he's looking down at me with pity and sadness.
"I've known Declan for decades. He's got his walls up high. But I see the way he looks at you. Like you're the sun he orbits around. He may be coming around slowly to the idea of letting you in. But you need to make sure that's what you want. Don't let him fall for you and then decide he's not it for you. Because if he lets himself fall in love with you, it’ll be it for him."
I frown, but before I can reply, he continues. "Just make sure there's more there than his body and his bank account. I know both are appealing, but you have to love his heart, too. And you have to be in it for the long haul."
He squeezes my shoulder. "Just think about it," he says before walking away.
And I do. I think about it the entire drive home. I think about it in the shower, and I think about it as I pretend to sleep, wrapped in the strong arms of the man I've fallen in love with.
Who doesn't love me back.