“I thought that was something you’d be better off processing alone,” she said, and it was hard to say that to him.The next part was worse, but she forced it out.“In case you had some kind of adverse reaction to it.”
“And what kind of adverse reaction did you imagine I would be having?”
Matilda blew out a breath.And something occurred to her then.Any way she looked at this, she was done for.There was no talking her way out of it.Either he loved her back, which was unimaginable and its own journey.Or he didn’t, in which case, it didn’t really matter what she said, did it?Her heart was smashed either way.The flu of vulnerability would carry her off, but not kill her because these things neveractuallykilled anyone, and they would both live in this small valley forever, remembering what it was like to have sex with each other.
It was all awful, was the thing.So she might as well go for it.
There was no point wishing, later, that she’d said something when she could say it now.And she already felt too vulnerable to live through the next hour, so what was a little more baring her soul?
So she blew out another breath like that might help, settled her hands on her hips for a little bit of courage, and then met his gaze.That endlessly blue gaze.“The thing is, generally speaking, I am a person that people leave.”
His frown deepened, but he otherwise didn’t react.“Go on,” he told her.
She could feel her pulse like it was battering her.In her wrists.Her neck.Behind her knees.“My parents left me, each in their own way.Quite honestly, every friend I thought I had in school left me too.I am odd.”
And she nodded as she said that, as she let it sit there a moment, because saying that out loud felt a lot like liberation.That helped her keep going.“I understand social cues, despite some rumors you might have heard over the years, but I don’t necessarily heed them.I like what I like and what Idon’tlike is pretending to like things that I will never like.There is a very short list of people whose opinions I care about.And I guess you’re on it.”
Still, Tennessee just stood there, watching her.Waiting.
Like he knew where she was going when she wasn’t sure she did.
That wasn’t true.She did know.So she might as well get to it.
“And…” Was she really going to do this?Her pulse pounded at her.Go big or go home,she told herself.And she was already home.So all that left was big, she guessed.“Actually, I had a crush on you.For a very long time.I thought it would go away, but it never did.And then, eventually, I decided that it wasn’t really a crush.I decided that you could be in love with somebody whether they knew it or not.After all, you’re not exactly a stranger.I know a thousand things about you and always have.And I like all those things.”
His eyes were a shade of blue she’d never seen before.She thought maybe her voice had started cracking, but she kept going.“I like the way you take care of what’s yours.I like how seriously you care about your family.You also make a perfect omeletandfries, and I don’t think that should be overlooked.”
“I hope I never overlook good fries.”
Something in her fluttered at that, but she couldn’t get sidelined.Not when she was finally saying these things to him.“I have never known you to turn down a person or creature in need, no matter how you huff and puff about it.”Matilda could see he didn’t like the phrasehuff and puff, but she didn’t take it back.“I used to measure boys against you and they would always come up short.Figuratively and literally.I just think that you’re the best man I’ve ever met, and then, on top of all of that, I find you more breathtakingly beautiful by the year.And when you touch me, Tennessee, I kind of forget my own name.”
Surely he would say something now, she thought.But instead, though his blue eyes looked even more brilliant than before, he continued to stay right where he was.
Standing still, his gaze trained on her.
Waiting.Still.
“So, in conclusion,” she continued, and now she could hear her voice getting a little squeaky.More than a little nervous.
But somehow, sayingall the thingsfelt good.She had always thought that when people spoke the truth, like her mother, it was mostly used as a weapon to bludgeon others with.It had never occurred to her that there was a power in it.It made her feel more likeherselfto own these things.To stand behind them.To put them out in the world, even though she had no idea how they would be received.
Whatever happened next, she would have that.It might hurt, but she would haveherself, and there was something powerful and comforting about that.
“In conclusion,” she said again, with no squeaking this time, “I really am in love with you.And if I’m honest, I can’t really understand why everyone else isn’t too.”
And when he still didn’t say anything, like he was frozen solid there—a Tennessee statue in her living room, Matilda pressed her fingers into her own sides.Hard.
To remind herself that she, at least, had not turned to marble.“I’m not asking you to say or do anything—” she began.
But that was when Tennessee moved.
It was like liquid, a suddenburst, when all he did was take two steps across the room and then he was standing directly in front of her.
“Matilda.”He shook his head.“Do I strike you as a casual man?”
He was so close now and that always messed with her equilibrium.It was his jaw—how perfectly cut it was.It was his height and the fact she knew his body so well now that she could already taste him.Her fingers itched to trace patterns all over those hard, mouthwatering muscles of his.
None of this was casual.It never had been.
