Page 69 of The Affair
“Because of what Reed did to you.”
I didn’t need to say anything. Both of us knew it was true.
“Look at how I reacted tonight,” I said. “I saw you talking to another woman, and I went insane. This isn’t a healthy way to start a relationship. I’m not rational. I’m not someone you want to fall in love with.”
Grabbing my hand, he looked into my eyes. “Let me be the judge of that.”
Pressing my lips together, I felt overwhelmed with emotions. “I don’t know how to trust you.”
“Then don’t.”
“What?”
“Trust is earned,” he explained. “Let me show you I deserve it.”
Biting my bottom lip, I asked, “And how do you know I deserve it in return?”
A small smile played across his lips. “I don’t, which is why you’ll need to earn mine as well.”
“That sounds okay,” I answered.
“Yeah?” He smiled, instantly making me want to touch him.
My fingers reached up to cradle his face, and that was when I felt it.
“You’re burning up!” I hollered, jumping up from my spot in the kitchen chair.
He rose with me, my hand rising up to his forehead.
“What the hell are you even doing here? And why are you out of bed?”
His smile turned sheepish, and shy Sawyer took over. “I was so excited about selling a piece of my furniture that I had to come over right away to tell you. I sort of forgot about the fact that I was still sick.”
“And the family friend who tore down your door to demand this piece of furniture? She didn’t care that you were burning up with a fever? She couldn’t have called?”
He smiled, not answering immediately, making me impatient. “What?”
“You’re sort of adorable when you’re bossy and mean.”
“Oh, get in the living room!” I demanded, rolling my eyes while resisting the urge to grin like a besotted, lovesick fool. “I want you under a blanket. Now.”
“Yes, ma’am,” he answered with a wink.
I followed him into the living room, watching his great big body occupy my sofa from end to end. I pulled off his shoes and covered him with the afghan my grandmother had made for my twelfth birthday. It was pink and had tiny flowers and looked absolutely ridiculous on him.
“I’m getting you some Advil and soup.”
“Don’t you want to hear about the furniture piece?” he said in a voice that almost made my heart melt.
Almost.
“Advil first,” I scolded, racing to the kitchen to grab the tiny bottle I’d only stopped using myself a day ago. Glancing at the Tupperware container of cookies, I felt myself smile.
The cassette tape wasn’t broken after all.
Returning to him in the living room, I had him sit up and take the medication before he spoke. I could tell that even though he wasn’t feeling the best, he was still beaming with excitement to share his news.
And I couldn’t help but feel pretty damn happy about the fact that I was the one he wanted to tell first.
