Page 77 of When We Were More
“You’re really going to pretend I’m not here? I’ve spent the last two hours calling every ER in three counties, making sure you weren’t hurt, and I don’t even deserve a basic acknowledgement?”
Her shoulders sag, but she doesn’t turn around to face me.
“What do you want, Henry?” I expected her to sound angry or bitchy, but all I hear is tiredness. The type of fatigue you get when you’re tapped out, drained.
“What I want is to rewind to last night and get a chance to tell you that nothing fucking happened. I want you to have given methe benefit of the doubt, and for you to have heard me out. Not to fucking run from me.”
“I wasn’t running, I needed time to think!” She practically growls the words at me. Now the house is unlocked, and she crosses the threshold. Since she didn’t slam the door on me, I follow.
“Youwererunning. You got scared, and you ran. But my question is, where did you run to? You’ve been gone all damn night.”
“None of your business. Don’tconcern yourself with me anymore.”
“What the hell does that mean, Matilda?” She doesn’t answer.
She’s removed her coat and kicks her heels off. Her hair’s a mess, and I have a deep-seated fear that it’s not regular bedhead. God, the woman makes me insane. She acts like we’re not in the middle of an argument and continues about her tasks. When she heads upstairs, I trail behind her.
“It’s my business if you were with another man, Matilda. We have rules for this arrangement, remember?”
I cringe at how childish and bitter I sound. But she’s not giving me anything to ease this sensation that my heart is going to beat right out of my chest.
“Oh, yeah? Well, I figured all the rules went out the window after last evening. My bad.”
She’s being infuriatingly blasé. Like it means nothing. We’re in her room now, and she’s about to slip her dress off, as if I’m not even there.
“Stop being dismissive! I didn’t break any rules!” I don’t mean to raise my voice, and I hate that she flinches. Regret instantly overcomes me. “Shit. I’m sorry.” I back away and take a seat on the chair next to her bed, dropping my head into my hands.
“What do you want from me, Henry?” It comes out as a whisper, and when I lift my eyes to search her face, vulnerability and fear slip past the mask she tries to wear.
Every part of me aches to tell her that I want it all. I want her love, her hopes, her future, her pain, her pleasure, and her fears. I want all things her. Every ounce of her that she’ll give me. That’s what I want to say. It’s what I wanted to talk to her about after putting the girls to sleep last night, but that went to hell in a handbasket. I know without a doubt if I tell her all of that at this moment, I’ll lose her. I can see it on her face. She’s shaken by everything that happened in the last twelve hours.
“I want you to let me tell you that I was upstairs so long because I fell asleep next to Layla after she asked me to lie with her for a few minutes. To let me explain, that’s why my shirt was unbuttoned and my tie loosened. It’s why I had major bedhead.”
I pause as tears roll down Matilda’s face. I long to go to her and comfort her. She’s not ready for that, though.
“I want you to believe me when I tell you that Kira was waiting for me when I came out of the room. That she asked me for a reference for a plumber, then after I gave her one, she said inappropriate shit. She walked away before I could tell her to back off, that I wasn’t interested.”
Matilda’s tears are flowing steadily now. I stand and take a step toward her. When she doesn’t try to stop me, I slowly close the distance between us.
“I want you to believe that I value our friendship—I value you—and I wouldn’t break our rules. I don’twantto break our rules.”
Her breath catches.
“I can’t… I can’t give you m-more. I told you I couldn’t b-before this ever started. And I hate how I felt last night. This shouldn’t feel like that, and I don’t know how to stop it.”
I lift my hands to her face and wipe her tears with the pads of my thumbs. How she doesn’t realize that she was already giving me more, I’m not sure. But now isn’t the time to challenge her about it.
“I’m not asking you to give anything more than what you already are. This is enough. I want this right here—what we’re already doing.”
It suddenly occurs to me that maybe she doesn’t want it. Fuck that will hurt. But I need to ask.
“Doyoustill want this?” The words are tentative, hushed.
She looks at me for what seems like forever, but is probably only seconds, and then whispers, “I don’t want to want it, but I do. Yes.”
I pull her to me and kiss the top of her head. It scares the hell out of me to think about how strongly I feel for her now that I’m admitting it to myself. But Harrison is right. There’s nothing I can do about it. It’s there. We stand there in silence for a few moments, her allowing me to hold her.
“I’m only crying because I’m so tired. Okay?”
