And our relationship needs to patch up its final holes, too. Papa’s words simplify things for me. I wonder where to start, before glancing down at the wooden box in my hands.
After Tessa revealed that she struggled with sewing, I thought about it for maybe an hour after. No matter our differences, I wanted so badly to offer my help, but I knew we weren’t in a place where she would take it.
I need to give her this kit. I want to show her that I listen to her needs, that I support her goals.
Maybe she’ll take it the wrong way.Maybe I shouldn’t give it to her.
I shake my head. No.Tessa knows me better now.I’ve shown her who I am. Sheknows. I’m not an overthinker, and I won’t become one.
The sewing kit feels heavy in my hands as I sit on my bed and practice what I want to say to Tessa. Part of me wants to tell her the true depth of my feelings. Put it all out there and let her decide how she feels about it. The other part of me wants to be careful with her and give her time to get used to the idea ofusas something more than temporary.
I’m deep in thought when I hear the door creak open, and my stomach tightens in anticipation.
Tessa walks in, hair still damp from a shower, wearing a knee-length silk nightgown. She looks down, seeming flustered. “Sorry about this, I left my clothes in the dresser. Wasn’t thinking when I got in from the garden. Probably the, um, heat.”
I clear my throat, trying not to notice how the delicate spaghetti strap of her nightgown keeps sliding down her right shoulder. “No problem. Do you want me to leave so you can change?”
Tessa gives a small shake of her head. “I need to put on lotion first, so I’m gonna grab what I need and then head back to the bathroom in a minute.”
Nodding, I feel myself rapidly losing the nerve to give her the kit. If she leaves now, I doubt I’ll ever bring it up. As she bends down to grab what she needs out of her suitcase, I decide to go for it.
“I want to give you this.”
Not even remotely near what I practiced.
She slowly rises from the floor and trains her gaze on my hands.
“It’s mine, from when I was a boy. It’s a beginner kit—not that you’re abeginner, but I’d love for it to get some use. And I want you to have it. If you want.”
Standing up, I hold it out to her, and she gently takes it from me.
Curiosity tints her expression. “You’re giving me your old sewing kit?”
“Yes.”
“Even though I rejected your help at first.”
“Yes.”
“Why?” Her eyes grow wide.
“I saw you had a need, and I wanted to fill it.”
Tessa pauses, looking thoughtful. A flicker of vulnerability flashes in her eyes, and she takes a deep breath, setting the sewing kit on the dresser. “Who is Cara, Gio?”
My eyebrows knit together at the sudden change in topic. “What are you talking about?”
She blushes, almost looking sheepish. “You call me Cara when you’re tipsy or sleepy. Who is she to you?”
“I dowhat?” The ground seems to tilt beneath me as I grapple with the reality of what she’s saying.
Tessa shifts uncomfortably on her feet. “Yeah. You’ve done it a few times. You did it again last night.” Folding her arms awkwardly, she averts her eyes. “It’s not a big deal, I get it. Can’t really control what you say when you’re not fully present. Especially because you’re obviously hung up on her.”
Part of me wants to laugh, the other part of me wants to cry. Instead, I place a finger under her chin and tilt her face up to look at me.
“That’s not why I call you Cara,” I say, with a soft smile.
“You call me Cara, because you wanther.”
