Still holding his hand, she headed up the stairs to their bedroom and closed the door firmly behind them.
He raised an eyebrow and she shrugged.
“Last time we tried to have a conversation we were interrupted. That’s not going to happen this time. It’s too important. Unless smoke and flames start appearing under that door, we’re not opening it.” She walked to the window, suddenly nervous. They had so much to talk about it was hard to know where to start. “That story you told my grandmother—I didn’t know any of that.”
“I told you I spent Christmas with friends.”
“But not the detail.” She turned to face him. “Detail is everything. Your friends are your family, I see that now.”
He stared back at her. “I hadn’t thought of it that way but yes, I suppose that’s true.”
“It explains a lot. It explains why you were so upset that I didn’t come to your Christmas party. That was wrong of me. I didn’t understand, but I do now. I’m sorry.”
“I should be the one saying sorry.” He crossed the room to join her. “We made you feel uncomfortable. We know each other so well it’s always an adjustment when something changes.”
“They were surprised you were with someone like me.” She touched the fabric of her dress. “I was right about that.”
“You were right they were surprised, but wrong about their reasons.” He gave a faint smile. “They weren’t wondering why I’d chosen to be with you, Rosie—that was pretty clear to everyone. They were wondering why someone like you would choose to spend an evening with them.”
“What do you mean?”
He gave an awkward shrug, as if it was obvious. “You’re dazzling, Rosie. You light up every room you walk into with your warmth and energy. They knew I was crazy about you, which added extra pressure. They didn’t know what to say to you. Maggie confessed afterwards that you made her want to give up wearing hoodies and wear a dress instead, but she didn’t have your confidence. She wanted to ask you to go shopping with her. Finn admitted he was too scared to speak to you directly in case he made a fool of himself and you dumped me because of my terrible taste in friends. And when Harry said you weren’t my usual type, he was gazing at you with awe. I think you missed that part because you were feeling self-conscious.”
She gave a shocked laugh. “I thought—I didn’t understand any of the conversation.”
“They talked about the one and only thing they’re confident talking about. Probably hoping to impress you,” he said and then gave that slightly lopsided smile that always made her stomach flip. “That backfired, didn’t it?”
The possibility that they might have felt insecure too hadn’t crossed her mind.
“I felt stupid. I assumed they thought I was stupid. You get frustrated that I don’t use a password manager, and that I hate two-factor authentication almost as much as I hate spreadsheets and that you’re always having to connect my headphones because my Bluetooth doesn’t work and they’re undiscoverable.”
“No one thought you were stupid. And I didn’t know youwere thinking it, because it’s only recently I discovered that you’ve always compared yourself to your sister. Knowing that, your insecurities about my friends and colleagues make more sense. I just assumed you were regretting marrying me.”
He was standing close to her. So close. And the words he was speaking seemed to bring him closer still.
There was a tightness in her throat. A pressure in her chest.
“I thought the same about you. I thought you were regretting marrying me. When we were in the car and I asked you, you hesitated.”
“Not because I regretted it, but because you were so upset I thought we needed to pause the conversation.”
“That’s the worst thing to do when I’m upset.”
He touched her cheek with his fingers. “I’m starting to understand that.”
“I was the one who urged everything forward. I was the one who proposed to you. I started wondering what would have happened if I hadn’t done that. Maybe I wasn’t right for you and I hadn’t given you a chance to discover that. That’s when I started thinking you might have been happier with Becky.”
“Why didn’t you tell me what you were thinking?”
“Because I was too scared I might be right.” She gave a shrug, embarrassed. “I have an overactive imagination. It’s a curse.”
“Your imagination isn’t a curse, it’s a gift. Being with you is a gift.”
She put her hand on his chest, curling her fingers into the front of his shirt. “We see the world so differently.”
“That’s true.” He cupped her face with his hands, stroking her cheeks with his thumbs. “And I love that. I’m grateful for it every day. I treasure our differences. I like seeing the world through your eyes.”
“You do?”
