She angled her head a few degrees. Not shooting him down, but not saying anything, either.
Dread constricted his ribs. “Since the day we met,” he told her, “all I’ve wanted is to be with you.”
“At Claire’s house, you told me you couldn’t get any more involved with me.”
“That was stupid,” he said bluntly. “When I watched Claire’s dad hit you and realized that you’d broken your promise, it rattled me.” He struggled to find the right words. “You know when you fall, and you see the ground rushing up at you?”
“Yes.”
“The things that happened at Claire’s made my fears rush up at me. I’m sorry about how I reacted.”
“Okay,” she said simply.
“I definitelydowant to get more involved with you.” It felt as though a splinter had lodged in his throat. He looked right at her, bulldozed past all his doubts, and forced himself to speak the words he hadn’t said out loud in twenty-four years. “I love you.”
She blinked. “Sebastian, I—”
“Almost all my life, I’ve felt like an outsider.” He couldn’t let her tell him they were over until he’d said what he had to say. “But I don’t feel that way with you. With you, I belong. That might not sound like much. But to me, it’s everything.”
She stepped to him, set her palms on his chest, and kissed him. The contact was feather-light, brief, tender. Even so, it had the power to flatten forests.
Did this mean she’d forgiven him?
Pulling back a few inches, she smiled in a way that gave him hope.
His hands cradled her jaw. “You are galaxies of stars to me, Leah. The most beautiful woman I’ve ever seen. I can see my whole future in your face. And I desperately want the chance to love you.”
“Sebastian.”
“Yes?”
“Are you ready for me to complete the sentence I began earlier?”
“The one that started with ‘Sebastian, I’?”
“That’s the one.”
“Feel free, so long as your sentence isn’t ‘Sebastian, I never want to see you again.’”
“It isn’t.”
“I also hope it isn’t ‘Sebastian, I just want to be friends.’”
“It isn’t.”
“Then go ahead, Professor.”
Her body was warm against his. Her fingers interlocked behind his neck. “I was about to say . . .” She cleared her throat. “Sebastian, I love you.”
His heart stopped for a split second, then thundered. He scoured her face, hunting for proof that she meant what she’d just said.
“When I say that I love you,” she continued, “you can take that to the bank. I’m a mathematician and certainty is my currency.”
Joy overwhelmed him. He wasn’t experienced with this kind of joy, and now so much of it filled him that he couldn’t speak.
“You’re a hero,” she said.
“No.”
