‘I did all of this for you,’ he muttered. ‘You don’t have to say anything – or feel anything. I’ll be here. There’s nowhere else I want to?—’
She laughed then, her heart so full and his confusion so earnest that she wanted to frame the moment. Leaning her head on his shoulder, she looped her arms around him. ‘I’m sorry I waved my situation in front of you like a red cape. It’s so…you… to be concerned for me like this. And that’s what I love about you.’
He peered down at her, his eyes blinking rapidly. ‘What did you say?’
‘Tell me again and then I’ll tell you why I went to Portland this week – and then maybe it’s time we get to the kissing.’
Toni looked so wonderful when she smiled, even more when she said the word ‘kissing’ with a playful twist of her lips.
‘What do you want me to tell you again?’ he asked. It seemed he was several steps behind her and struggling to catch up.
She answered just with an inviting lift of her eyebrows.
‘That I love you?’ he clarified.
She raised a hand to his cheek, brushing her thumb over his moustache and then up to his forehead, smoothing the lines that were doubtless crinkled deeply up there, after she’d vexed him so much.
‘Mmhmm,’ she confirmed.
‘I love you,’ he said immediately. ‘That’s not the difficult part, amore. I love you,’ he repeated for good measure.
She turned to face him, her legs crossed. ‘If it’s not difficult, why did it take you so long to say it?’
‘Because without actions, it was just words – words I wasn’t sure you were ready to hear.’
She was silent for a moment, considering him with a light in her eyes. God, he loved how she studied him. ‘Two thistles,’ she murmured thoughtfully. ‘We both have our spines.’ Hauling herself to her feet, she held up a hand. ‘Give me a minute; I need something from my car.’
It was the longest minute of his life. When she returned holding that thistle, a cloth bag over her shoulder, he was both dismayed at the futility of his own gesture and hopeful that she understood his meaning.
‘Does this represent our thorny situation?’ she asked.
‘Perhaps. Thistles can have many meanings, from isolation and solitude to perseverance and… devotion. Mostly, it just reminded me of you.’
She dropped to her knees next to him and opened her mouth to speak. ‘I thought ofyouas a thistle at one stage,’ she said with a wobbly smile. ‘“Don’t touch the thistle,” you said. You weren’t ready for the way we fell in love so quickly.’
She handed him the crunchy stem of the flower and rummaged in her bag. He held his breath to see what she’d produce.
It was another thistle. ‘I discovered this interesting thing about thistles,’ she continued. ‘They have some very serious defence mechanisms to keep people away.’
‘To keepinsectsaway,’ he corrected her.
‘And people,’ she said emphatically. ‘We’reboththistles: hurt and closed off and pessimistic about love.’
‘I can see that,’ he agreed.
‘But look at this,’ she said softly.
She took the thistle from his hand and brought the two together until the spines on the flower heads came into contact, then intermeshed. Then she let one stem go.
‘They stick together,’ she pointed out. ‘Two thistles don’t prick each other. They fit together. We both have spines, but that doesn’t mean we don’t belong together.’
Her words were so far from what he’d expected to hear that they didn’t make sense for several moments. He’d expected a long wait before she was open to more than friendship, but here she was, coaxinghiminto a relationship that would mean everything in his life.
He stared at the interconnected flowers, the mess of spines that only seemed to hold them more firmly against each other. A thistle was the perfect flower for Toni, also representingcourage, protection and dignity. He just needed to be brave enough to believe her.
‘I was trying to be sensible about this – about us,’ he mumbled.
‘I don’t want sensible,’ she said, choking on a laugh. ‘I love you too, Gabri. I thought you knew that. Yes, I’ll always love Miro in some way, but I love youtoo. Just as much.’
