“You said youthoughtyou were falling in love with me. That’s not the same as actually doing the act,” he pointed out.
“Stop being pedantic,” I said, frowning a little.
“I’m sorry if you feel that pointing out the obvious is pedantic, but there is a difference between thinking you’re falling in love and actually doing so.”
“And this is what I get for trying to have an adult relationship where I speak my mind and am honest and aboveboard with my thoughts and feelings and yearnings for your naked flesh on my naked flesh. Particularly my female bits. They miss your male bits. A lot.”
“Are your female bits perhaps confusing a perfectly normal and healthy lust for the more substantial and long-term love?” he asked.
“No!” I punched him lightly on the arm. “Dammit, Dixon. Is it your fiancée? Is it too soon? Not that I think nine years can in any way be considered soon, but still, people grieve at different rates. Is it because of her?”
He sighed, about to deny it, but stopped and finally said, “Yes. But not in the way you think.”
“Oh? In what way, then?”
He toyed with the material covering his knees for a few seconds. “I told you about this, but you were asleep. I didn’t love Rose. I’m not sure I ever truly did, even at the beginning when we first met and were together. She always seemed to take charge of the relationship, leaving me feeling as if my thoughts and preferences didn’t matter. I was more or less without a say in the way our future was planned.”
“That doesn’t sound like you,” I said with a little frown, and pulled out into traffic again.
“It isn’t. Or rather, it wasn’t then, but I lacked the confidence in myself to recognize what was wrong with our interactions. It’s easy to see now that I allowed myself to be swept along with her visions, but that was not the case at the time. There was also a little oppositional defiance issue in that my parents disliked Rose intensely, and I was going through a rebellious stage.”
“I tried to have one of those,” I said with a little sigh at the memory of the time I tried to live on my own with only the money I made waitressing. I was a horriblewaitress. “Not only was I a failure at it—my father made himself so sick with worry that I decided it wasn’t worth it. It’s hard to be defiant when the people who love you are so unhappy.”
“You’re luckier than me, then, because I clung to my defiance until I realized the situation was too complicated to bow out of with any sort of dignity. And then Rose became ill, and I couldn’t leave then because... well, I just couldn’t.”
“You’re a really nice guy—do you know that?” I kept my eyes on the road, but was very aware of Dixon’s small movements next to me. He was making little “I’m embarrassed by your praise” twitches of his fingers. “I think it’s admirable that you were there for your fiancée when she needed you most.”
“She didn’t need me. She hated me by the end, and I didn’t blame her one bit. I wasn’t any too fond of myself.”
“Don’t beat yourself up because you made mistakes,” I told him from the wisdom of many years of therapy. “You can’t control what other people think or do, and you certainly aren’t responsible for either.”
“No, but if I had backed out earlier... if she had met someone she really should have been with...”
“Bah. The world is full of ifs, and none of them are worth a damned thing. So how does the fact that you’re not grieving for your lost love mean that you can’t tell me that you’ve fallen for me just like I’ve fallen for you? And keep in mind if you tell me you haven’t fallen for me, I am in control of this vehicle and I can easily see to it that you tumble out of it. While I’m driving.Fast.”
He laughed, relieving the sense of worry that had filled me ever since I had made my declaration. “And I know you would never accept a profession of love made under the threat of death or dismemberment.”
I cocked an eyebrow at him. “And...?”
“And?” He looked somewhat surprised. “And I believe that you know what my feelings are.”
I wanted to stop the car again just so I could look at him, but I’d be damned if I’d appear desperate after just telling him I loved him. I pondered what he’d said, gnawing my lower lip as I tried to determine if I was missing something. Should I know what he felt for me? Oh, I knew he was fond of me and enjoyed our sexual escapades, and he liked talking to me, but did he feel the same sense of burgeoning love that gripped me with painful fingers every time I clapped eyes on him? Did he think of me at all hours of the day, like I did of him? Did he mentally store up things to discuss with me, just as I did?
Dammit, why couldn’t he answer my question the way I wanted him to?
“So...” I hesitated, fighting my pride with the need to get some clarity. “So you’re not closed to the idea of a romantic relationship beyond that of a purely physical nature?”
“No. When the time is right.”
“Huh?” Now I really was confused.
“I won’t make the mistakes I did in the past. I will do things properly. I will declare myself and my affections. I will propose on one knee. I will be married in a ceremony where both families are in attendance, and it will be a celebration of our commitment to each other, and not a showcase bereft of good taste and emotions beyond greed and one-upmanship.”
A sick feeling gripped my stomach. Was he saying I wasn’t the woman of his choice? In my tired state, I didn’t have enough brainpower to figure out just what it was he was trying to say. Was he gently letting me down? Or was he indicating that, at some point, he would follow his strategy and we’d live happily ever after?
I glanced at him, unsure how to respond.
He sat back easily, his fingers relaxed on his knees, his hair blown back from his brow by the wind.
