She hated the way he nonchalantly leaned back on his hands. She hated worse the way he let his eyes roam over her face.
When confronting an ex-lover, she figured it was pretty normal to want to look amazing. But she knew she looked as bad as she felt.
He confirmed it by asking, “How are ya feelin’ this mornin’?”
“About like you’d expect,” she snapped back, her fingers automatically seeking the comfort of her locket.
When his gaze tracked the move, she immediately dropped the necklace.
His expression turned sympathetic then. He glanced slowly around the room before returning those golden eyes to her face. “Ya sure ya don’t want to sit?” He patted the space next to him.
“Nope.” She crossed her arms. “I’m happy where I am.”
“Okay.” He nodded. “So, ya asked why I’m so happy this mornin’. And I reckon my answer is I’m happy because I realized last night after talkin’ to Boss that all the reasons I’ve been denyin’ my love for you all these years don’t hold water.”
Her knees wobbled again. This time there was no firming them up.
Fisher hopped off the bed and caught her before she could crumble to the floor. He gently escorted her to the bed and only resumed his seat once he was assured she was settled.
Her heart raced. The air in the room was still and warm and smelled faintly of his smoky aftershave. It all combined to have her head spinning as his words echoed in her mind.
Had she heard him correctly?
Nah. Couldn’t have, she told herself. Her hangover had caused her to hallucinate.
“I’m sorry.” She shook her head, her voice straining to rise above a whisper. “I’m not sure I caught that last part.” She lifted a trembling hand to her temple. “I think my hangover is screwing with my auditory processing.”
He took her hand into his and she marveled at how small her fingers looked in comparison to his. How pale her skin was next to his.
His callused fingertips brushed her palm and she realized just how much she’d missed his touch. How much she’d been craving it.
“Which part?” he asked. “The part where I said I had a conversation with Boss last night? Or the part where I confessed to lovin’ ya?”
His grip tightened when she swayed.
“Whoa there.” He pulled her close so he could throw an arm around her waist and keep her upright.
His confession hung in the air like a fragile promise. But she still couldn’t make herself believe she’d heard him correctly.
It was obvious he read her bewilderment because he said patiently, “Let me put it in no uncertain terms. I love you, Eliza Meadows. The first time I saw ya, my heart stumbled. The second time I saw ya, it fell right at your feet. And there it’s stayed for four years.”
Her breath caught. Her heart stopped beating. And despite feeling as dehydrated as a raisin, she burst into tears.
“All right.” He pulled her into his lap and held her as she tucked her face into the warm crook of his shoulder and wetted the collar of his T-shirt.
Why am I crying?she wondered when the tidal wave of emotions had finished washing over her, leaving her limp and drained.
It was the voice of reason that answered.Because when dreams come true, sometimes tears are the only way to express the enormity of one’s euphoria, one’s relief, one’s gratitude.
Right.
She pushed back so she could look into Fisher’s beautiful, beloved face. “Why did it take you so long to admit it?”
“Well…” He twisted his lips. “For one thing, I didn’t think I was worthy of ya. I mean, you’reyou, and I’mme. I figured ya wouldn’t look twice at a murder’s son from Nowhere, Louisiana.”
“Fish—”
“No.” He shook his head. “I know how ya feel ’bout that. I still think you’re too good for me. But somehow ya don’t see things that way. So I’m goin’ to stop questionin’ my good fortune and just enjoy the fact that ya seem to have real dubious taste when it comes to who ya decide to go and love.”
