There was a long silence. It was Oliver who spoke up again.
"I need you to know one more thing. When I told Theodore he could not marry Joyce…it was not only my pride. I had decided years ago that he would be my heir. If I never married, he wouldcarry on the line. It was easier to believe I had made peace with it."
"And did you?" she asked softly.
"No. But I told myself I had." He looked down.
"And now?" Alethea's heart twisted.
He lifted his head, and she was struck by how tired he looked.
"Now," he said, "I see that I was wrong in everything that mattered. I was wrong to deny happiness to both myself and my brother. Even worse, I was wrong to imagine that love was something I could do without."
"Oliver…." Tears blurred her vision again. She had not expected him to be so candid with her. He was being more open than he had even been before, and she worried that she would ruin it by saying the wrong thing.
"I don't expect you to forgive me," he said quickly. "But I needed you to hear the truth. You were never the problem. It was always me."
Alethea reached for him then, her hands coming to rest on his shoulders.
"You think you were alone in your fear?" she asked, her voice thick. "I have been terrified every day since I met you that somehow I was not enough for you. That one day you would look at me and regret ever bringing me here."
His hands came up to cover hers, holding them fast.
"You made me feel wanted," she whispered. "And seen, really. I have never known what it is to be loved without conditions. But with you I started to believe it might be possible."
"It is possible," he murmured with a soft smile.
Alethea blinked at him, her own tears finally spilling free.
"I do want children," she said softly, "And the reasons are clear to me now. I do not wish to have them simply because God demands it, or because it is expected of me to bear them. I want them for a selfish reason and that is because I love you."
Oliver paused, listening intently now.
"You make me want a home," she went on, unable to stop the words now. "You make me want to see what kind of father you would be. You make me imagine…so many things I never dared before."
He drew her closer, pressing his forehead to hers.
"You are right," he whispered. "I blamed you for wanting more than I thought I could give."
"Do you blame me still?"
"No," he shook his head. "Your absence made me realize that living without you is not something that I wish to do."
Alethea cupped his cheek in her palm, and he leaned into it.
"And I am still afraid. But not so much that I will let it cost me you."
She smiled through her tears. He was not denying her anymore, and she knew that it must have taken all his strength to come to such a conclusion.
"You would not be alone in that," she said to him. "I suppose I am afraid, too. But I do not think it would do justice to the life we could have if we were to be held back with our fear."
Oliver did not answer back to her in words. Instead, he kissed her. Out of all of their kisses, this one would be her favorite. There was a sense of unhurriedness to it, as though for the first time, they finally had the pleasure of certainty.
She kissed him back with everything she had, her hands sliding into his damp hair as though to anchor them both. When at last they parted, they were both breathing hard. Alethea rested her forehead against his, her eyes closed.
"I don't need a perfect man," she whispered. "I want you only, with all of your imperfections."
"I am glad of it," he murmured, his lips curving faintly. "Because I have never been anything close."
