Page 56 of It Must Be Love

No woman, I realized, had ever cooked for me. My mother wouldn't know which end of a spatula was up; same went for Ann. With other women I dated, we went to restaurants, or ordered takeout. I didn't cook either. There was something intensely cozy about sitting in her cute colorful apartment and eating a well-cooked meal.

We were on our third bottle of wine. We'd managed to consume her favorite Chenin, the bottle of champagne, and now we were working on the cab franc from Loire Valley. With every glass of wine, she loosened up. She was still Naya, just more so.

"May I ask you something?" I lifted my wine glass in a toast.

She touched her glass to mine. "Okay."

"How can I convince you to not look down, not look away when you're talking to me? How do I convince you that I'm never disgusted in any way about anything that's you?"

Her eyes immediately lowered.

"Fucking hell, Naya," I groaned.

"I'm sorry. I…don't like confrontations. This is my way of…running away."

I lifted her chin to look at me. "Stop running from me."

"You most of all," she whispered.

"Why?"

"Because…I'm embarrassed. You know I had a…crush…and…."

I leaned in and brushed my lips against hers. She gasped and pulled back.

"Hayes thinks that the reason Ann went after you was because she could see I was attracted to you. I thought about you a lot, and I thought it was…." I couldn't say irritation; that would hurt her, and it was not the truth to boot. I just didn't know what was inside me. I still didn't, not for certain. "I watched you, Naya, as much as you watched me."

"But you said—"

"I know what I said. Can you forgive me for that?"

She looked at me now. "Why did you say it?"

"Because I'm an idiot?"

"Explain."

"I'm going to say some things now that won't sit right with you, and they don't with me either. But they're honest. I need you to not get upset and give me a chance to…ah…well, explain myself."

She folded her arms and leaned back on her chair. On anyone, it would be a sarcastic I'm waiting, asshole pose; in her case, it was an I'm afraid, so I'm holding myself together stance. I wish she'd let me hug her, but she was wound up too tight.

"I didn't think you were my type. So, I refused to admit that I noticed you or recognize that I wanted you, and," I put a finger on her lips so she would not speak, "that was because I'm a shallow motherfucker who has the self-awareness of a turnip. When Ann said she wanted us to get engaged, my first thought was: fuck no. So, for the first time in my life, I asked myself what exactly my type was."

I took my finger off her lips. She took a deep breath. "Don't you dare insult my intelligence and tell me after some soul searching you found out I'm your type."

I smiled. "You say you're afraid of confrontation, but you challenge me just fine. At work, you did that professionally. In private situations, you have no problem telling me to go fuck myself."

"I've never said that to you," she gasped.

"Not in as many words. But when I tried to apologize for when Ann was rude to you, you didn't accept my apology and basically asked me to shove it where the sun doesn't shine. Right now, you're happily telling me that if I tell you you're my type, I'm full of shit." I filled her glass and mine with more wine.

She seemed to consider what I said and then nodded. "I'm only like that with people I…."

"People, you what?"

She sighed. "People I trust. Like Darren and my father. I don't even do that with Nolan. Kara pushes my buttons and sometimes I say something but…I'm never rude. I don't want to be the kind of person who hurts others."

"Baby, you could never hurt anyone. There is too much good in you." I brushed my lips against hers.

---