He lowered himself to the front half of the cushion, as if he didn’t intend to stay long.
I sat up straighter and smoothed the soft velvet of my dress, gathering my thoughts even though I’d gone over what I wanted to say a dozen times since the barn had emptied.
“Thanks for coming out here.” I sought out eye contact and barreled forward. “Luke, I’m sorry for my reaction the other day. My overreaction.”
“Your explosion?” he asked.
“Yes. Whatever you want to call it, I’m sorry. Now that I’ve had time to cool down, I can see your only motivation was to do something kind and caring for me, not to control me. Not to embarrass me. Instead of thinking it through, I jumped to my old way of thinking. I was completely in the wrong, and you didn’t deserve my wrath.”
He nodded once. “Thanks for apologizing.”
I kept my eyes on him, hoping he’d say more, but he didn’t.
So I did.
“It came right after my mother steamrolled me, which doesn’t make it okay, but I was already in defense mode. I’m not making excuses. I was in the wrong.” I studied him, silently urging him to say something.
Eventually he said, “I can’t understand how you could find out someone did something nice for you and jump straight to outrage. I don’t know how to handle that, Magnolia.”
“I know. I don’t know how you could handle it either. I’m sure my reaction didn’t make any sense.” I gathered my hair at my nape and pulled it to one side, a nervous tic. “Trust is hard for me, Luke. I haven’t had many people in my life who had my best interests at heart, especially not men.”
He leaned forward, propped his elbows on his knees, and ran a hand over his hair, seeming deep in thought. “On the surface, I know that,” he said, “but I don’t think I understood how much that could crop up between you and me. I’m not your father, Magnolia. I’m not your grandfather. I hope like hell I’m nothing like either of them.”
“You’re not. If you were, I wouldn’t be with you. I wouldn’t be in love with you.”
His head popped up, and his gaze snapped to mine.
I swallowed and gathered my courage. Then I slid off my chair and kneeled in front of his, needing to be closer to him. “I love you, Luke. I’ve never said those words to a man before.”
My eyes teared up for the seven thousandth time in the past three days, but this time it was different. An overflow of the love I felt for him, the hope I had for us. And yes, I was also terrified he wouldn’t reciprocate.
He straightened and held out his hand. I put mine in his, relishing the feel of his fingers clasping me, holding me there. As if my declaration of love mattered.
Tears overflowed from both my eyes at the same time, dropping down my cheeks.
“Mags,” he said, his voice softening, his whole body softening, as if I’d broken down his rigidity with my vulnerable confession.
I exhaled fully for the first time since he’d entered the barn.
He brushed his finger across my cheek, wiping away my tears. “I love you too.”
My relief rushed out of me in the form of more tears, even though he wasn’t pulling me into his arms and running off with me into the proverbial sunset.
“I want to make us work,” I said, “and I’m so afraid I’m too messed up. I’m working on this trust issue with my therapist, but it’s a lot of years to deprogram, and I might screw up sometimes.”
He squeezed my hand, blew out a breath, and stood. I sat back on my heels in alarm. When he paced slowly toward the speaker I’d set up near the altar, I tried to calm down, noting he wasn’t stomping toward the door.
At the altar, he craned his neck back and looked up at the decor high on the wall, above the small window, a cluster of large metal stars. My heart pounded as I waited for him to say something, to look at me, anything to make me think he wasn’t about to throw his hands up and leave.
“Luke?” I said quietly.
He finally pivoted, came back toward me, and sat on the thick arm of the chair. “It occurs to me that I added to your trust issues when my mom was fired. You should’ve been able to come to me. I broke your trust.” Again he craned his head back, this time with his eyes shut. “Fuck.” He held out his hand again. I stood and took it as I stepped closer. “I’m so sorry for that again, Mags.”
“It’s in the past,” I said.
“Yes, but isn’t that the point? Your past made you who you are. Well, some of who you are. I refuse to credit any of the good parts to that asshole who raised you.”
“I’m glad you think I have some good parts.”
