“I’m not declaring this is love,” she rushes to clarify. “I just mean whatever this is…it’s more than anything I’ve felt before.”
“I never cared or let people in. It was easier to keep things surface-level, keep everything temporary and shallow.”
“How about now?” Her voice is soft, but laced with curiosity.
“Now all I can think about is how you touch me with such care, yet you don’t treat me like I’m damaged. You’ve made me believe I’m worth the risk. It’s everything I never knew I deserved.”
What I really want to say isI could see myself wanting more with you, already catching glimpses of how good it might feel to share my life with you.But those words might scare her, so I keep them locked inside my heart. For now.
Her fingers find mine, threading them together. “You deserve so much, Theodore,” she whispers earnestly. “But I’m glad I made you feel that way.”
“I’m feeling all these new things but don’t know exactly how to put them into words or how to express myself.” I rake a shaky hand through my hair, wishing I could be smoother, but also knowing she deserves my clumsy honesty.
“I get that,” she replies.
“And I have no clue how to show you what you mean to me when words don’t feel enough.”
“I used to think showing you cared had to be loud with big, dramatic gestures. Crying at airports. Screaming in the rain. Barely eating for days because you can’t imagine your lifewithout the other person. So maybe my idea of romantic gestures is a bit askew.”
I huff a quiet laugh, leaning back against the pillows. “You watch too many romcoms.”
“Guilty. I’m learning that feelings can start quieter. There’s no need for fireworks right away. It’s little things that matter at first. Like noticing how someone’s voice changes when they’re tired or remembering how they take their coffee.”
“Or howyouhum under your breath when you’re focused,” I add softly.
“You tilt your head a little when you’re trying to hide a smile,” she counters, adding, “Like right now.”
“And you smell like coconuts.”
“I also haven’t missed how you get this tiny crease between your brows when you’re pretending you’re not worried.”
I love that she noticed, even if I had no idea. “Guess we’re both paying attention.”
“Maybe that’s the point: caring enough to notice.”
My chest aches with the need to tell her more, to reach for her before the moment slips away. “Ivy?”
“Yes, Theodore?”
The warmth of her breath brushes against my hand as she presses her lips to my knuckles. The simple touch undoes me. It’s soft and reverent. For a guy who’s spent years feeling disposable in the eyes of the two people who were supposed to love him unconditionally, it’s almost too much to take in.
“I don’t fully understand what this is, only that I don’t want it to end,” I admit in a whisper.
“Me neither.”
There’s so much more I want to say, but the words catch in my throat. So instead, I reach for her by leaning forward, and she meets me halfway. Our lips touch in a slow kiss. It doesn’t need to be more. It’s perfect.
When we part, she rests her forehead against mine. “I should go. My lunch break is ending in five minutes.”
“Don’t be a stranger.” I manage another crooked grin.
“I’ll come by after rounds.”
She leans down, brushing one more kiss on my lips, leaving the ghost of her there. I don’t want her to go. But I can’t keep her locked in this room with me, no matter how much I miss her when she’s not around.
33
IVY
