Chapter 11 #3
I was trembling helplessly as I heard it. I heard it. I heard him tell me the truth. He wrapped his hands around mine, holding them steady.
He went on, “And I want you to heal. Baby, I want you to heal a little more every day. But it’s not because I think you need to be better or different.
It’s because I want you to keep remembering who you already are.
Not the distorted version of yourself in your mind.
I want you to see what I see. Because that’s really you. ”
The tears were falling now. There was no way I could stop them. Emotion and sensation and something almost transcendent crashed over me like a flood.
I knew it was true. I couldn’t deny it. I believed it because he knew it with such conviction. Sometimes truth breaks through the lies we tell ourselves so radiantly, so beautifully, that it transforms anything it touches.
Dr. Jones had been right after all. This time—this one time—it really was that simple.
“Do you understand what I’m saying?” Gideon asked, his voice hopelessly thick and his eyes impossible to look away from or deny.
“I should have told you all this before, but I was so afraid of moving too fast and scaring you away. But, baby, this is the truth. You’re my heart and my partner and my lover and my helper and the best friend I’ve ever had in the world. ”
A couple of sobs broke free, but I smothered them so I could keep listening.
His expression twisted slightly as he continued, as if he had to control deep emotion too. “You’re my hope for the future and my call to be a better man, and I do hope one day you’ll be my wife.”
I could barely control the emotion, sitting on the bed with Gideon on his knees in front of me. I pulled my hands away for a minute so I could cry into my palms, and then I let him take them again.
“You are all of that, Diana. You’re…” He looked down at our clasped hands as if he couldn’t find the words, but then he raised his eyes to meet mine as he concluded. “You’re the light that shines on the dark places of my soul, but you are not, you are not my project.”
At that, I completely lost it. I threw myself at him, almost toppling both of us to the floor, and then I sobbed helplessly into his shoulder.
After a minute, he pulled back and took my face in his hands. “Please tell me you believe me, baby.”
“I do,” I choked, nodding helplessly like an idiot. “I do.”
He let out a broken groan and pulled me against him, holding me so tightly my ribs felt like they’d crack.
When his arms loosened, I grabbed at his shirt. “You’re my heart and my partner and my lover and my best friend too.”
So, after that, it was a little embarrassing. We were both in a pretty emotional state, and we were trying to kiss, but it was honestly a little messy.
So we’ll just skip over a minute or two until we’d both managed to make it up onto the bed and I’d mostly stopped crying.
I was draped over him, and he was holding me tightly, sometimes brushing kisses against my hair.
Eventually he cleared his throat. “We can take the sex as slowly as you need. You just have to be honest with me about it.”
“I know. I’m sorry.” My voice was scratchy, and my eyes felt swollen. “It’s not that I don’t want to be with you. I just don’t want to be…”
“What?” He stroked my hair, maybe to soften the blunt demand.
“I don’t want to be a disappointment.”
“You’re only a disappointment when you lie to me or hide things from me.”
I pressed a kiss against his shirt, which was rather damp from all my crying. “I won’t, then.”
“Good.”
“Good.” I raised my head so I could see his face, and I smiled when I saw he was smiling. “You’ll have to try not to be a disappointment to me too.”
He chuckled since it was obvious I was teasing. “And how exactly am I in danger of being a disappointment to you?”
“Well, after tonight, I’m going to have very high expectations in terms of poetic expressions of your feelings.”
He frowned. “What?”
I giggled and stroked his face, which was a little scratchy from a hint of stubble. “You were very poetic tonight, so I’ll be expecting such beautiful words all the time.”
His frown turned into a scowl. “Don’t get your hopes up. Besides, I was hardly poetic.”
“Yes, you were.” It was so sweet and Gideon-like that he was embarrassed by my teasing. “You called me the light that shines on the dark places of your soul. You don’t think I’m going to forget that, do you?”
“Probably best that you do,” he muttered. “I was pushed into it by a crisis situation. No need to dwell on it.”
I laughed out loud and leaned down to kiss him. “I’m definitely going to dwell on it. It’s the most beautiful thing anyone has ever said to me.”
He grumbled under his breath.
“It’s the most beautiful thing I’ve ever heard in my life.” It was true, and I could see that he knew it was true, despite my teasing tone.
He combed his fingers through my hair and cupped the back of my skull. “I’m always good in a crisis.”
I laughed again and suddenly realized that the anxious heaviness I’d been carrying around with me for the past several weeks had completely disappeared. Everything wasn’t better, but at least that much was gone.
I felt almost free, and I gave him a hug of pure joy. “You are good in a crisis.”
He returned my hug, and I knew he felt just as relieved, as free as I did. But he grumbled, “You’re not going to let me forget that line, are you?”
“Nope. Never. I’ll be reminding you of it when we’re old and gray, along with those lectures about getting knee surgery when you need it.”
He laughed and kissed my hair. “As long as we’re still together when we’re old and gray, then I can live with it.”