Chapter 8 #2
“You didn’t hear my response?”
He shook his head. “I left before that. Then I gave you enough time to finish your conversation before coming back.”
If they had any chance of moving past this, they needed to lance the wound. So she pointed to the bed. “You obviously didn’t hear everything. But let’s talk about what you did hear. Take a seat.”
“Okay.” He shuffled across the room and settled on the edge of the mattress, his eyes pained and resigned. “If you want to have this conversation, I’m ready to listen.”
Where to start? After months of frustration and days of affection, where to start?
“Do you deliberately match your schedule requests to mine every month?” At his nod, she sank back into the chair.
“You should’ve asked me before doing that, Thomas.
I never get the chance to work closely with anyone else, which isolates me at the library.
More importantly, it isn’t your right to control my life that way. ”
“I know.” He sat perfectly still and held her gaze, not a hint of denial or anger on that pale, grief-creased face. “I’m so, so sorry.”
“Will you do it again without asking me first?”
“No.” He shook his head violently. “God, no.”
“Then on to the next issue. You need to give me the opportunity to deal with more complex questions. Without them, I can’t prove my worth to the library or use my training and academic background.
” She waited for his nod. “And you have to pay more attention to what’s happening around you while you’re working.
If there’s a long line, tell people you’ll get back to them later.
Research on the eighteenth century isn’t a life-or-death situation, and it can wait an hour, or even a day or two.
Other patrons are important too. So are your coworkers. ”
“I understand what you’re saying. I’m not…” He hung his head. “I’m not great at multitasking, but I’ll try. I swear to God, Callie, I’ll try harder.”
The desolation on his face twisted her heart, but she took a gulp of air and forced herself to finish.
“Last thing. I know I need to stop measuring myself against other people’s opinions and expectations all the time.
But you need to do it more often. Because self-confidence is great, but obliviousness isn’t. ”
He flinched, but he met her eyes. “I’ve thought about this all day, and I agree. Completely.”
“Then I’m done.” She let out a slow breath. “That’s all I have to say about work.”
Maybe she was still itchy, but her head felt so light it could almost float away.
She’d done it.
She’d laid out every single point she’d mentally screamed at him for months. She’d done so clearly and succinctly, and she’d made herself understood.
He’d listened. Of course he’d listened. But more than that, he got it, he didn’t appear to hate her for what she’d said, and he was going to try to do better.
With their past tackled, it was time to look to their future. Together.
“Again, I’m so sorry.” He’d risen to his feet, and he took a step toward the door once more.
“I wish I’d paid more attention months ago, but I’ll do better in the future.
I promise you’ll never have to deal with my bullshit again.
But please know that I never, ever wanted to hurt you. You deserve the world, and I…”
His words grew reedy and hoarse. “I wish I were a man you could love. But whoever he is, he’ll be the luckiest man ever to draw breath on this Earth.”
He offered her one last sweet, sad smile. His eyes glowed with the unshadowed adoration she’d seen just that morning, and they lovingly traced every feature of her face. Like she’d fallen from the heavens, his heart’s desire made flesh. Beautiful but too divine to touch.
Then he was walking toward the damn door again.
Really? Really?
“Thomas?”
He let go of the door handle and looked over his shoulder at her.
She raised her brows. “Aren’t you forgetting something?”
Patting his pocket, he frowned. “I have my keycard. And I’ll reserve my own room for tonight, so don’t worry. I’ll pack while you’re at dinner.”
Jesus Christ.
“I didn’t mean your keycard.” She waited for a moment, but he simply continued to stare at her. “I mean, weren’t you supposed to ask me what I wanted from now on?”
“Oh.” He hesitated. “Did you want to move to a different room, instead of me? I figured it would be easier for you if—”
If she murdered him, any jury would consider it justifiable homicide.
“No.” When she walked up to him and gripped the front of his tee in a fist, he blinked down at her, his eyes wide. “I want you to ask me how I feel about you. How I want our future to look. Instead of assuming what I want and how I feel once again.”
Okay, so maybe she’d raised her voice a bit. Again, justifiable.
Against her knuckles, the rapid tattoo of his heartbeat told her everything. Even if it hadn’t, the way he stopped breathing would have.
He gazed down at her, the grief in his eyes turning to shock. Tentative hope.
“How—” He gulped. “How do you feel about me? How do you want our future to look?”
The words were wisps of noise, vibrating with emotion.
“I like you.” She loosened her fingers and smoothed the wrinkled cotton of his tee, then spread her hand flat against his chest. “Given more time, I think I could love you. I already love your curiosity and intelligence. I already love your sincerity. I already love how you focus on me so completely and listen with such wholehearted attention. I already love your good intentions and your willingness to admit when you’re wrong.
I already love your protectiveness and your wry sense of humor.
And despite its drawbacks, I even love your ability to accept who you are.
” She smiled up at him. “Which, as you know, is not my forte.”
“You don’t want me to be”—he cringed a bit—“different?”
“Only in the ways we’ve already discussed.
” She stroked her hand up to his shoulder and watched him shiver beneath her touch.
“And it’s not as if I don’t have things to work on too.
If I’m angry or frustrated or disappointed, I need to make myself talk about it, not just stew in silence for months at a time.
Even if it’s awkward and causes hives. If I’d voiced my concerns earlier, would you have done something about them?
Would you have changed the way you work? ”
He covered her hand with his. “I would have done my damnedest, Callie. I swear.”
“So what happened wasn’t all your fault.
” Her head fit perfectly into the crook of his neck, and he smelled grassy and delicious.
“Especially since, as I told Tess, I think part of my rage and anxiety had nothing to do with you. I spent three years working a full-time job and taking classes at the same time, so my levels of stress coming into the library were already off the charts. And for someone like me, changing jobs is destabilizing. When you add a failing relationship to that mix, I had a lot of emotions looking for a convenient home, and there you were. Happily working away at the microfilm machine while I helped three dozen impatient colonial people.”
He gently tipped up her chin to look her in the eye. “You were right to be angry at me, Callie.”
She ducked her head to kiss his hand. “Yes. But maybe not quite as angry as I actually was. This afternoon, something else occurred to me too.”
With his thumb, he stroked her jaw. “What’s that?”
“We got so close so fast when I started working at CMRL. Maybe too close, for someone dating another man.” When he pursed his lips in understanding, she nodded.
“Yeah. I think all that anger was also a good way to keep you at a distance while my relationship with Andre played out and reached its inevitable, dismal conclusion.”
“That makes sense.” He pressed a bit closer, his thighs brushing against the folds of her skirt. “Although like I said, I deserved your anger. And I want to make sure you understand something else.”
Oh, that glide of his leg against hers felt like fire. “Hmmm?”
“You’re not—and never have been—a pain in my ass.” His voice was as steely as she’d ever heard it. Entirely unamused. “Yes, you have needs, but that doesn’t make you needy. And I’ve always, always wanted more of you, so I don’t see you how you could possibly consider yourself too much for me.”
“With my anxiety, I’m not…” She shifted her weight. “I’m not always easy.”
To her shock, he laughed. “Sweetheart, when did I ever give you the impression I wanted easy?”
He hadn’t.
He’d always wanted her for who she was, not who she expected herself to be.
“Never.” Her nose tingled, and she blinked away the spangled haze in her vision. “Never, Thomas.”
His lean frame radiated heat, and the muscles of his arm tensed beneath her trailing fingers. The thumb at her jaw shifted, drifting down her neck and to her shoulder in a gentle, heated path. Then it halted, and he swallowed hard.
“Callie, I need to do this right, so let me be clear.” He cupped her face, his fingers light and careful. “I want you. In my life, in my bed, in my heart. Do you want me?”
She beamed a smile. “Yup.”
His eyes flared, and he leaned down until his forehead rested against hers. “So what do you want to do now?”
“Dinner. Beach. Bed.” She arched her back until her lower body pressed to his, and that little sound from the back of his throat shot through her in a bolt. “Are you with me?”
He rubbed her nose with his so softly, despite the heated hardness she felt against her belly. “Always.”