He caught me off guard, that’s all. I gave him closure. He can go on his merry way.
So why is he still here?
God, the clothes are all over the place; this disorder is suffocating me.
It seemed like a great idea this morning. Pull everything out, spread it across the room, and reorganize the dressing room all in one go. Sort my life into neat little piles.
Are these two bags even different? Maybe I need a system. An app. Something to scan what I wear, track it. I could get the dev team on it next week. Smart tags. Color-coded categories…
Breathe, Jackie.
My brain is in full-blown panic mode. Grasping at anything to avoid this conversation.
His words stripped me bare, right down to the bone. Left no place to hide. Showed me once again that nobody sees me like he does.
Letting somebody so close to your soft center that they could touch it… is terrifying.
But Adam doesn’t grab it.
Doesn’t crush it.
He cups it with reverence.
And keeps it safe.
“Talk to me,” he says behind me, his voice low and steady.
“What’s there to talk about?” I croak out, hating how fragile I sound. “I’ve made a fool of myself. End of story.”
“No,” he says, firmer now. “This time the story doesn’t end because you’re scared, and I don’t know how to handle it. This time, we talk. I’m not letting you slip through my fingers again because I wasn’t clear enough.”
My stomach knots as I glance back, slowly turning toward him.
“What do you mean?”
His smile is so warm, his gaze an infinite pool of comfort, drowning out the maddening buzzing in my ears. He disarms me completely.
Adam shifts, like he wants to reach for me, but thinks better of it.
“First,” he says. “I want you to say it. To me.” His voice doesn’t waver.
I blink up at him, unsure of what he’s asking.
“What you told Eliza. And what the rest of the world found out before I did.”
Oh.
A searing flush licks its way up my neck, burning hot across my cheeks. My mouth feels like I swallowed a spoonful of sand.
But he deserves this. Honesty, at the very least.
Even if it guts me.
Even if he doesn’t love me back.
He stands before me, waiting. Open. A quiet kind of hope brimming in the lines of his face.
His unwavering support and steadiness give me the strength to make the words push past the fear. But there’s nothing I can do about the hot tears rolling down my cheeks.
