Understanding dawns in her green eyes.
"No."
I stare at her. "What?"
"I said no." She doesn't move from my lap. "I'm not turning around."
"Antonella—"
"I'm not going to look at the wall while you move to the bed." Her chin lifts. Defiant. "I'm going to watch you. And you're going to let me."
Fuck me.
This woman.
"You don't understand," I say through gritted teeth. "It's not—I don't?—"
"I understand perfectly." She climbs off my lap and stands in front of me. Naked. Beautiful. Completely unashamed. "You think watching you transfer to the bed will change how I see you."
"It will."
"It won't."
"You don't know that."
"Yes, I do." She crosses her arms under her breasts. The movement pushes them up, and I have to force my eyes to stay on her face. "Because nothing you've done has changed how I see you."
I don't have words.
She's standing there, naked and defiant, telling me she doesn't care about the thing I've spent two years hiding from everyone.
"Move to the bed," she says. "I'm watching."
I wheel myself to the edge of the bed.
My hands grip the mattress. I position myself the way I've done a thousand times. The way I hate doing. The way that makes me feel like less than a man.
I push up from the wheelchair.
My arms take my weight. My legs are useless, dead things that I have to drag along with me. I swing myself onto the mattress, landing harder than I'd like.
The wheelchair rolls back slightly from the force.
I'm on the bed now. Sitting on the edge. My legs stretched out in front of me.
I don't look at Antonella.
I can't.
"Bruno."
Her voice is soft. Close.
I feel the mattress dip as she climbs onto the bed beside me.
Her hand touches my jaw. Turns my face toward her.
"You want to know what I just saw?" she asks.
