“You came here,” I drawl out, “forme?”
Typically, I only come on weekends. But because we have the charity gala coming up, it means preparing for that rather than coming here. I like popping in every now and again during the week to help out and be around people. It drowns out my inner thoughts.
But Thomas doesn’t know that I only come on weekends, which makes me wonder how many times he’s shown up before today.
Thomas chuckles. “Yes. For you. And here you are. Which means we can talk, because I’ve been thinking about something you said the other day before you left.”
A long stretch of silence lasts between us as my ears ring with anticipation. What could he have possibly been thinking about? I didn’t say anything interesting enough for him to dwell on.
“You said you weren’t sure if you were capable of being loved,” he finally says, voice uncharacteristically soft.
Heat warms my face and tingles in the back of my neck at the reminder of those regretful words. Out of everybody I could have admitted that to, why did it have to be him?
“I get it, Winter,” he tells me, brushing his knuckles against my arm until I’m peeking up at him. “More than you know. But I’ve decided something.”
That doesn’t sound good. “And what is that?”
“It’s bullshit.”
My lips part in shock. “Excuse me?”
“The notion that you’re unlovable is bullshit,” he repeats casually. “If there’s one thing that I’ve learned from Emaly, it’s that there are different kinds of love. If you think you’re not capable of any of them, you’re lying to yourself.”
The nerve of this man. “You really have the audacity to say something like that to me?”
“It’s not audacity,” is his easy retort. “It’s called the truth. Take it from someone with firsthand experience.”
Is he saying he knows what it’s like to be unlovable? “Thomas, you and I are nothing alike. You have a wife who loves you regardless of what you do and fans who literally wear your name and number. You’re loved by thousands of people.”
He stirs the sauce and shakes his head. “I’m inclined to disagree with you. We’re not that different, whether you want to admit it or not. So, how about another secret? Tit for tat.”
“I don’t want to play any games, Thomas.” I groan, rubbing my tired eyes. I haven’t been sleeping well, and it’s catching up with me thanks to Cody’s absence at work, adding on to my to-do list.
“Neither do I.”
The seriousness in his tone makes me drop my hands and loosen a sigh. “Fine. You go first if you want a secret in return so badly.”
I expect him to argue, but he doesn’t. “The worst kind of love is the unrequited kind,” he says quietly, lowering the heat on the pot and moving on to the other saucepan like he knows what he’s doing. “You can be married to someone and realize that the love you have with them is different than the one you wanted.”
I’m not sure what secret I was expecting from him, but this one…I swallow, feeling a pang of hurt in my heart for him. “You said that you and Emaly weren’t together like that. Why?”
He never gave me the details, but it’s obvious that he loves her. And there’s no doubt in my mind that she loves him too. She wants him to be happy, to have companionship. Why not give him those things herself?
Thomas shifts his attention to me, a small smile on his face that isn’t sad but…reminiscent of something equal to acceptance. “Because she’s in love with somebody else.”
That pang of hurt grows into more, and I can practically feel the weight of those words as if they’re free weights sitting on my chest. “I’m sorry,” I tell him. “That must be hard.”
To my surprise, he shakes his head. “I’ve accepted it by now. I’m not the person who can give her what she wants. I love her. I’ll always love her. And, sure, a part of me, a younger version of me, expected more from us. She’s been my best friend for a very long time. But it’s a different kind of love we share. I’m grateful for any that she can offer me.”
Who is this person? I’ve never seen this side of him before, and I don’t know if I like it or am scared of it. Because he seems too…human. Normal. Vulnerable.
“Truth is, sweetheart,” he says gently, “you can be loved and adored by thousands of people and not feel worthy of it. So, I’ll take whatever scrap I can get from anybody important.”
The room falls quiet, save for the hum of the refrigerators and the sauces bubbling as they heat. If I listen carefully enough, I may even be able to hear my heart crack.
“That seems like more than one secret,” I finally say, voice quiet as I take him in.
His lips curl up higher at the corners. “The others are a bonus. I just want one.”
