Chapter Eleven
Matilda had her pack of dogs with her, and her huffy cats, and that was a good thing because the house felt lonely.
Rosie had moved out ages ago. The rescue animals weren’t out back.
Tennessee wasn’t here.
She had nothing but her thoughts, and that was pretty much the last place she wanted to muck about in tonight. Especially since her heart didn’t seem to want to calm down. Or even beat properly.
If it was possible to make yourself sick by being vulnerable, she was pretty sure she had the influenza version of that. Her whole body ached.
When headlights tracked across the front window, indicating that someone was pulling into her driveway, that did not exactly help the situation. Or her broken-heart-based flu symptoms.
In the space between the slam of the truck door outside that got all her dogs barking and the time it took him to walk to her front door, Matilda felt as if she’d spun out somewhere. As if she was suddenly having some kind of out-of-body experience.
Or maybe she’d died and was looking down on this scene from the afterlife.
Because, deep down, she hadn’t thought he would come after her.
She’d been sure he wouldn’t, in fact.
Tennessee knocked the way he always did—two short raps against the wood. And even though she felt thrown, or frozen, or possibly also deceased, she stood up anyway. Like she was a puppet on a string.
And the funny thing about that was, if a string meant they stayed connected? Matilda would consider it. That was how gone she was about this man.
She waded through excited, furry bodies to open the door for him. And she was deeply grateful for those warm, furry bodies, then, because they jumped up to greet him. They wagged their tails furiously. Montgomery brought his favorite toy. Fran slobbered.
They all barked their greetings, demanding his attention, and they got to do that, for a minute. Until he was actually inside and she let out a sharp whistle, then ordered the dogs into the kitchen.
Then she closed the door behind her, locking the dogs away, and it was just the two of them.
Matilda cleared her throat. “Tennessee—”
“First of all—”
They both spoke at the same time. They both stopped at the same time, too.
He frowned at her, but it was a quizzical sort of frown. Not a stern one, or an unfriendly one. She took that as a good thing.
Though she would take anything as a good thing right now. She knew that. But it made the flu-ish feeling fade, so there was that.
She nodded at him to go on.
“First of all,” he said again, sounding very deliberate, “why did you tell me that you loved me and then take off running? Literally running and then driving away in a cloud of dust. Or what would have been dust if it hadn’t snowed two days ago.”
Matilda flushed, and waited, kind of hoping that this was a rant and he would keep going.
But he didn’t. He just… waited.
While she’d been securing dogs in the kitchen, he’d come farther into the house. He’d taken off his coat and now he was standing there in just one of those flannels of his, his arms crossed, and all of that intense blue attention on her.
And he did not look particularly inclined to speak again.
“Well,” Matilda said. She cleared her throat again. “I guess… Well, Tennessee, if you want the truth—”
“I do want the truth. I insist upon it.”
She didn’t like how dark he sounded then. Or maybe she meant intense. Either way, it seemed to skitter all over her skin like a shiver that couldn’t quite render itself into being.
“I thought that was something you’d be better off processing alone,” she said, and it was hard to say that to him. The next part was worse, but she forced it out. “In case you had some kind of adverse reaction to it.”
“And what kind of adverse reaction did you imagine I would be having?”
Matilda blew out a breath. And something occurred to her then.
Any way she looked at this, she was done for.
There was no talking her way out of it. Either he loved her back, which was unimaginable and its own journey.
Or he didn’t, in which case, it didn’t really matter what she said, did it?
Her heart was smashed either way. The flu of vulnerability would carry her off, but not kill her because these things never actually killed anyone, and they would both live in this small valley forever, remembering what it was like to have sex with each other.
It was all awful, was the thing. So she might as well go for it.
There was no point wishing, later, that she’d said something when she could say it now. And she already felt too vulnerable to live through the next hour, so what was a little more baring her soul?
So she blew out another breath like that might help, settled her hands on her hips for a little bit of courage, and then met his gaze. That endlessly blue gaze. “The thing is, generally speaking, I am a person that people leave.”
His frown deepened, but he otherwise didn’t react. “Go on,” he told her.
She could feel her pulse like it was battering her. In her wrists. Her neck. Behind her knees. “My parents left me, each in their own way. Quite honestly, every friend I thought I had in school left me too. I am odd.”
And she nodded as she said that, as she let it sit there a moment, because saying that out loud felt a lot like liberation.
That helped her keep going. “I understand social cues, despite some rumors you might have heard over the years, but I don’t necessarily heed them.
I like what I like and what I don’t like is pretending to like things that I will never like.
There is a very short list of people whose opinions I care about. And I guess you’re on it.”
Still, Tennessee just stood there, watching her. Waiting.
Like he knew where she was going when she wasn’t sure she did.
That wasn’t true. She did know. So she might as well get to it.
“And…” Was she really going to do this? Her pulse pounded at her.
Go big or go home, she told herself. And she was already home.
So all that left was big, she guessed. “Actually, I had a crush on you. For a very long time. I thought it would go away, but it never did. And then, eventually, I decided that it wasn’t really a crush.
I decided that you could be in love with somebody whether they knew it or not.
After all, you’re not exactly a stranger.
I know a thousand things about you and always have. And I like all those things.”
His eyes were a shade of blue she’d never seen before.
She thought maybe her voice had started cracking, but she kept going.
“I like the way you take care of what’s yours.
I like how seriously you care about your family.
You also make a perfect omelet and fries, and I don’t think that should be overlooked. ”
“I hope I never overlook good fries.”
Something in her fluttered at that, but she couldn’t get sidelined.
Not when she was finally saying these things to him.
“I have never known you to turn down a person or creature in need, no matter how you huff and puff about it.” Matilda could see he didn’t like the phrase huff and puff, but she didn’t take it back.
“I used to measure boys against you and they would always come up short. Figuratively and literally. I just think that you’re the best man I’ve ever met, and then, on top of all of that, I find you more breathtakingly beautiful by the year.
And when you touch me, Tennessee, I kind of forget my own name. ”
Surely he would say something now, she thought. But instead, though his blue eyes looked even more brilliant than before, he continued to stay right where he was.
Standing still, his gaze trained on her.
Waiting. Still.
“So, in conclusion,” she continued, and now she could hear her voice getting a little squeaky. More than a little nervous.
But somehow, saying all the things felt good.
She had always thought that when people spoke the truth, like her mother, it was mostly used as a weapon to bludgeon others with.
It had never occurred to her that there was a power in it.
It made her feel more like herself to own these things.
To stand behind them. To put them out in the world, even though she had no idea how they would be received.
Whatever happened next, she would have that. It might hurt, but she would have herself, and there was something powerful and comforting about that.
“In conclusion,” she said again, with no squeaking this time, “I really am in love with you. And if I’m honest, I can’t really understand why everyone else isn’t too.”
And when he still didn’t say anything, like he was frozen solid there—a Tennessee statue in her living room, Matilda pressed her fingers into her own sides. Hard.
To remind herself that she, at least, had not turned to marble. “I’m not asking you to say or do anything—” she began.
But that was when Tennessee moved.
It was like liquid, a sudden burst, when all he did was take two steps across the room and then he was standing directly in front of her.
“Matilda.” He shook his head. “Do I strike you as a casual man?”
He was so close now and that always messed with her equilibrium. It was his jaw—how perfectly cut it was. It was his height and the fact she knew his body so well now that she could already taste him. Her fingers itched to trace patterns all over those hard, mouthwatering muscles of his.
None of this was casual. It never had been.
“No,” she said. “Not really.”
“Not at all,” he retorted.
He moved closer still and wrapped his hands around her upper arms to hold her a little bit closer. And if she really wanted to, she could put her hands out and put them on his body—
Matilda did want that, actually. So she did it.
And then the world tilted, because Tennessee smiled.