“I am not afraid of you,” she repeated. “I have never been afraid of you.”
His brows lowered over his eyes, and he searched her face. “Such certainty,” he murmured. “When I had no certainty for myself.”
“You have no faith in yourself because when you look in the mirror, you see your father. But I see you, Maxwell. Just you.” She rested a hand over his heart, wishing she could break through his pain andreachhim. “You would never have hurt me,” she said. “I know that. I knowyou. It’s why I fell in love with you, even though I know you never wanted me to.”
A pained expression crossed his face, too fast for her to reach, and his hand slid down her arm until he was clasping her hand, leading her toward the monstrosity in the middle of the room.
“It’s not finished,” he said as she looked at the lumpy creation.
Up close, it seemed even more strange to behold, but there was an odd charm to it, as well. And the shape became even more obvious—a head, shoulders, something that might have been arms. A person.
“What is it?”
He almost smiled. “Not what. Who. I tried to make you, Thalia. The way I see you. Only my ability does not in any way match my artistic vision.” His next expression was a grimace. “I wanted to make this for you to show you that… I told you I didn’t loveyou, and I thought I meant it. I wanted to mean it—for your sake, I thought it would be better if I always cared for you but never loved you.”
Her heart was full, all the emotions of the past day crashing over her until she felt as though she might sink under the weight of them. Or perhaps float away because she suspected she knew what he would say next.
“But I was wrong, and I was a fool,” he continued. “I’ve been in love with you for longer than I cared to admit. I just never realized it.” He looked down at her, brows drawn, his mouth in a tight, hard line. “I thought this was how every man felt about his wife; I thought I cared for you, but it hadn’t gotten too far. But I was wrong. I’ve loved you since the moment you claimed this room for your own.”
He looked around, and she tried to see it as he did: a place of memories, and poor ones at that, supplanted with new memories of her. They sculpted together.
Her creations, left to dry, lined the walls. He had not touched or damaged them in any way.
“I think I knew then,” he continued when she said nothing, her chest too full. But her eyes filled with tears that trickled down her cheeks. “But I was too afraid to admit it. It was only when Joyce spoke to me about how attached I clearly was to you that I started to have doubts about what this would mean for us.”
“It would just have meant that we would have lived our lives,” she said finally, her voice thick. “It would have meant nothing bad at all.”
“I think I understand that now. And I’m sorry.” He tilted her chin so she could look at him, his eyes dark and full of regret. “I am so sorry for hurting you, Thalia. And I’m sorry it took me so long to realize I was in love with you, and that I am in charge of whether I’m a danger to you.” He slid his hand along her cheek, tracing her jawline. “I’m sorry,” he repeated. “Can you forgive me?”
“Oh, Maxwell.” She reached for him, mindful of the bruises on his face, and pressed her mouth against his. She felt as though she was shaking. She certainly was—but she kissed him with all the fervor the last few days had given her. “I missed you so much.”
“I’ve missed you, too. Coming back to that empty house was hell.” He steadied himself, moving so he was braced against the wall. “It’s why I stayed away so much.”
“I’m sorry for leaving,” she whispered.
“And I’m sorry for making you feel as though you had no place in my life.”
“I’ve already forgiven you. Having you love me is enough.” She smiled against his mouth as he bent to kiss her again but didn’t allow herself to be sucked into him. “But you need a physician, Maxwell. You’re hurt.”
“It’s nothing.”
“Max—”
“Stay with me.” His hands gripped her hips, holding her against him, and showcasing precisely how much he wanted her there. “Please, my love. I don’t want to lose you again.”
“Calling for a physician would hardly be losing me.”
A dark, possessive light burned in his eyes. “I’ve been days without you, Thalia. I’m not done with you yet.”
Heat immediately sank between her legs. The idea of him wanting her like this, even when he was in pain, was so arousing she could hardly think past it.
“Are you sure? If it hurts you?—”
He leaned down and bit her earlobe. “I can endure a little pain, Thalia.”
Well, there was no point arguing with him. Not when she wanted this too, and he sounded so very certain. It had been too long.
“I will, however,” he said, sliding a hand to her rear and squeezing, “require you to do a lot of the work.”
