Page 40 of Shea's Hero

“Yeah.” Her smile is radiant. “It really was.”

CHAPTER 9

SHEA

Is it too soon to have sex with Oliver?

Yes. Of course it is.

We’ve only been on two actual dates, if I count watching a movie and ordering Chinese as one of them. Which I am, because all the important elements of a date were included—dinner, some sort of entertainment, more flowers, orchids this time, and a kiss goodnight.

Well, more than one kiss, technically, but that’s as far as it went.

I probably would have let things go further, had Oliver made a move. Especially while we were kissing on the couch once the movie was over. But it wasn’t just kissing, my entire body was attuned to every touch—his tongue tracing the seam of my lips before dipping inside, his hand on my back, pulling me closer, my nipples brushing against the firm planes of his chest, the stroke of his fingers across my cheek…

It was incredible. Maybe better than before, really.

What’s that saying? You never know what you had until it’s gone? It’s kind of like that. While I knew Oliver was amazingfour years ago, being without him makes me appreciate him even more.

Getting Oliver back after years without him is like the most precious gift. A gift I never expected, rarely dared to dream about, really, and I’m still scared I’ll wake up one day to find it gone. To find Oliver gone.

I’m scared he’ll decide he can’t forgive me, even though he said he does. Or he’ll realize I’m not good enough for him, with my mediocre job and my boring life and my eating disorder that’s held at bay, but may never go away completely.

I hate not feeling confident about myself. Intellectually, I know I shouldn’t feel that way. If I were to ask Jade, she’d give me a dozen reasons why any guy would be lucky to date me—my admittedly nice hair and eyes, the success I’ve found at my job, my writing skill, and how I’m nice to everyone, even when they’re rude.

She’d remind me how I graduated summa cum laude from Brown, and about the article I wrote for the university paper that won a national award. Lovely Jade would tell me how strong I was during my recovery, fighting against the demons that didn’t want to leave me alone.

It’s not that I disagree, exactly. It’s more that I’m disappointed with myself.

I had so much going for me back in Virginia. An incredible boyfriend, a plan to get a job in journalism, hobbies and friends, my health… and I threw it all away.

Yes, I know anorexia is a real disease, a dangerous one, and once you’re in the thick of it, it’s hard to get out. And I know how easily it sneaks up on you, starting out so innocently.Just a few pounds, I’d tell myself,and another half hour on the elliptical. Once I hit my goal weight, I’ll stop.

But that’s the tricky part of it. The goal was never enough. And with each new goal I set, I fell deeper and deeper into it, until I couldn’t see a way out.

I won’t let myself go back there again. Not just for myself, but for Niall and Jade. I can’t put Niall through that again, terrified he was going to lose the last of his family. And poor Jade, blaming herself for not noticing I was sick when I did everything in my power to keep it from her.

Most importantly, my future niece or nephew. I need to be around for them. I need to be a good role model, especially if it’s a girl, showing her she can be happy no matter what size she is. I want to be cool Aunt Shea, who shows them around New York City and takes them to plays and museums, not their sickly aunt who doesn’t have enough energy to do anything.

But what if Oliver doubts me? What if he chooses to end things now instead of taking the chance of being hurt again? I wouldn’t, I’d rather die than do that, but are my assurances enough after what I did before?

What if I give all of myself to him and then he leaves?

It makes more sense to wait. To let things progress more slowly, like they did at the start of our relationship. It’s safer to stick with kisses and hugs and cuddles on the couch until we’re both certain we want to be together again.

Except.

That’s not what I want.

I want to be with Oliver so badly it aches. I want to see him naked, and I want to kiss all the little scars I remember and the ones he might have gotten since then. I want to feel him inside me, an indescribable sensation I’ve never forgotten.

There hasn’t been anyone else since him. I want Oliver to know that, too.

In theory, I could just make a move the next time I see him. But if I put myself out there and he pulls back, if he doesn’t want the same thing as me…

Maybe I should just buy some more of those dresses he likes and see where it leads.

He always loved it when I wore dresses, and it didn’t matter what kind. Long ones with flowing skirts, cute little sundresses, country-style ones in floral prints—he loved them all. I remember wearing one back in Virginia that I belatedly realized looked more like a sack than a dress. It was probably the unsexiest thing I’ve ever worn, and considering what my comfortablearound-the-houseclothes look like, that’s saying a lot.

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