We stay like that, locked in a quiet exchange, unspoken feelings and fragileI love yousdrifting between us like dust in the air. My hands slip from my chest and settle onto his shoulders, needing the contact.
“I’m sorry,” he murmurs, pressing his forehead into my chest.
“For what?”
“For what I said. It’s too soon, and I freaked you out.” He speaks into my chest, and his voice vibrates against my skin, deep and chastised.
“No, no.” I wrap my arms around his neck, desperate to keep him close. “It’s not that. They just happen at random sometimes.”
“The attacks?” His lips move up my body, his words muffled in the curve of my neck. I feel the wetness of his tears against my skin.
A shuddered breath escapes me at the tenderness he so freely gives me. After seeing me at my weakest, he’s letting himself be vulnerable. It feels undeserved,this gentleness. It’s unfiltered and raw, like he’s giving me more than he’s given anyone else. Parts of him that are precious.
“Yes. They come at random. I haven’t figured out what always sets them off.”
“Do you think therapy would help?” His voice dips, like he regrets even asking. Like the topic of therapy is taboo and maybe he shouldn’t mention it.
“It does. Or it did. I just…haven’t made time lately.”
He kisses my neck before pulling back and sliding beside me on the couch. His arm wraps around my waist, lifting my legs over his knees. The gesture is simple, but it leaves me reeling. He doesn’t just want mehere. He wants mewith him. It sends a flutter racing through me, a feeling I’ve never had before.
“What’s wrong?” he asks, eyes soft as I aggressively rub my arms.
“I just have this weird feeling.”
“A bad feeling?”
“No.” I smile. His concern is endearing. “It’s a new feeling. But I don’t know what to do with it. As you can see, my emotions can get too big.” I eye him, and he smirks. “Sometimes I don’t want to feel them at all, scared they could be bad.”
“Describe it. Maybe it’s a good feeling.”
“It’s like a…” I flap my hands around, struggling to give it a name. “Like a flutter.”
“Like butterflies?” His boyish grin disarms me completely, the fluttering inside me only intensifying.
“Yes.” My voice drops to a whisper. “And it’s terrifying.”
“Then let’s chase them.”
I blink. “What?”
“Let’s chase the butterflies. You and me. Together.”
Chapter seven
Steven
When We Said I Do
“Areyounervous?”
“What kind of stupid question is that? Of course he’s nervous!”
“Maybe he’s not nervous, though!”
“Stop sayingnervous. You’re going to make him nervous!”
My family volleys back and forth like this as I iron my pocket square—for the third time this morning. Steam hisses and curls from beneath the hot metal, the sharp scent of scorched fabric filling the room.I’m not nervous.
