Page 97 of Wistful Whispers
“Even the part where I lost my virginity to the woman who sued my mentor?” His eyebrow quirks.
A small, strangled laugh slips from me. “Jesus…”
“It sounds insane.”
“Yeah.” I squeeze his hand. “It’s also our truth. Let’s lean in.”
He threads his fingers through mine, resting our joined hands on his thigh. “Do you still believe in us?”
I think about it—really think.
About how tired I’ve been lately. How our days have turned into snatched hours between our professional chaos. How I’ve spent nights lying awake wishing he were home, wondering if I’d made a mistake by falling too fast. Too hard.
Still…
“I believe in us. I think we’re meant to be together.”
He whimpers out a breath like he’s been hoping this would be my answer.
“I’m scared, baby,” I whisper. “If we can’t fix this, what if you wake up and realize I’m the one who derailed your dream?”
“You’re not.” He shakes his head.
I burrow into him. “How can you be sure?”
“Because.” His hand curls around mine. “When it comes down to it, you’re the only person who makes my dream feel possible.”
I let his words wash over me. Allow it to try to undo the shame and self-doubt and fear building inside me for the last thirty minutes of this conversation.
“I’m not great at relationships,” I admit. “Historically, I push people away before they can hurt me. I promise not to push you away.”
Seamus tugs me back into his lap. “Let’s be bad at relationships together.”
I press my forehead to his, eyes closed. “I’m not letting you drown in this alone. Caldwell wants to weaponize your past? Let him try. You’ve got someone protectingyounow. With everything I have.”
“Someone scary as hell in court.”
“Damn right.”
He chuckles, and for the first time tonight, it doesn’t sound hollow.
We sit in silence for a long moment, the weight of everything still real. No longer unbearable.
“You know what’s a light in the tunnel about all this?” he finally says.
“What?”
“I think this study…it’s feels like the right direction for me, regardless.” His eyes light up. “Not just to get out from under Caldwell. It matters. It means something.”
I smile. “Then let’s make it happen.”
Seamus’s brow lifts. “Let’s?”
“You didn’t think I’d let you write a whole-ass research proposal on female sexuality without a little editing finesse, did you?” I kiss his cheek.
His grin breaks wide open. “God, Iloveyou.”
We’re not unscathed. We’re not perfect.
