Page 80 of Widow's Walk

“And yet you still freaked the fuck out,” she teases. “How about this?” She hangs her arms over my shoulders casually. “We both win.”

I break my resolve and let my lips curl slightly at the corners, showing my surrender. Her flippancy is sometimes contagious. “My reward first.”

She sighs dramatically. “Let’s get this over with,” she utters under her breath.

I take her by the hand and lead her back out to the dance floor just as the next slow song begins. I pick a spot with a good enough clearing and pull her in close. My hand pressing into the curve of her back, and keeping her hand in mine.

“So,” she says, her eyes glancing around. “Why this?”

I take my time answering her. “Think of it as exposure therapy.”

She looks up at me, eyebrows lowered. “Exposure therapy?”

My arm snakes around her waist to bring her in closer. I brush my lips along the shell of her ear and whisper, “One day, things like this won’t make you uncomfortable. You’ll realize this is real.”

I feel her breath slightly hitch. Her body freezes for a moment before she tucks her head and hides her face into my shoulder. And I let her.

As the song ends, she looks up at me, eyes wide and searching. My lips find purchase with her ear again. “I love you,” I murmur against it. It’s something I’ve said only a handful of times to her. Each time, I mean every word of it.

I lean away to watch her reaction. She blinks, then she masks it with her usual smirk. But I caught it. “Kay, my turn.”

This time, she takes my hand and leads the way. Bringing us around the venue’s building to a darkened pool. The only lights are those in the distance and the moon.

She drops my hand and kicks her shoes off. “What are you doing?” She gives me that hellish grin of hers right before she slips her dress off, leaving her stark naked. “Clair,” I warn.

“Blackwell,” she says in a mocking tone.

“Clair,” I say her name sharply when she leaps into the air and makes a splash in the water.

Her head surfaces. “Get in here.”

“Pass.” I shove my hands in my pockets.

“Um, excuse me. We had a deal.” She lowers her head into the water up to her nose, then pops up again to try and spit water at me and fails. “Chicken shit.”

Because I’m not one to break a vow, I begin to strip. I neatly lay out my clothes and pick up her crumpled, silk gown off the ground to do the same with hers.

Then, I do something wholly uncharacteristic. Two long strides, one reckless leap, and I’m crashing into the water, sending a wave over her head. I pop up to the surface grinning, sending her into a boisterous laugh. Loud and true.

We tread water, drawing ourselves in closer. Then her face turns serious. Almost, fear-struck. “I won’t ever be what you want me to be,” she blurts out.

I frown. “And what is it you think I want you to be?”

“Normal.”

I snort. “What the fuck makes you think I want normal?”

What the fuck is normal anyways?

She sighs, getting frustrated with me already. “Maybe not normal, but…I’m fucked in the head, Blackwell. All kinds of fucked up.” My lips thin, and I don’t know whether to laugh or fucking shake her. “I’m never going to let my guard down because it’s not even about being guarded at this point. It’s just me! Guarded. Jaded. Chip on my shoulder. Pessimist. Cynical—”

“Defiant. Stubborn. Rebellious. Devious. Batshit fucking crazy,” I add, partly to lighten the mood.

She gives me that dry look that means she’s about to reach for her knife. “I’m serious.” She pauses, digging for the strength to continue. “For a moment, I thought maybe, justmaybe, I could give you a sliver of my trust. But you killed it. It’s gone, and it’s never coming back.” Her chin is trembling by the time she’s finished.

I diminish the gap between us, sneaking my arms around her waist to adhere her body to mine. “I’m sorry, Sinclair.” She bitesdown on her bottom lip. Knowing that if she dares to speak, she might fall apart. “I’m sorry for not telling you about what was going on. For not telling you right away that it was never a question.” I admitted to her that I was in the wrong, but I had never said the words, ‘I’m sorry’. “There was never a chance in fucking hell I would ever letanyonetouch one hair on your beautiful head. And that you are the one I am going to marry, no matter what I lose or gain from it. I’m so fucking sorry,jané del-am.”The life of my heart.

Her glistening eyes come to a boiling point. A tear falls. Then another and another. Spilling over silently.

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