I grab the stem of the glass and raise it to my lips, taking a big glug as Connor settles back next to me. I feel him watching me, waiting for me to explain my nervous knee-bobbing and necklace-fiddling, never mind the fact that I can’t look him in the eye, but I’m too confused to string a sentence together.
“You know it’s only you, right?” Connor says after a pause, as if it’s the most obvious thing in the world. “I know you must be finding it hard to trust, after Rhys, but you need to understand that I have no interest in anyone but you. You’re all I’ve wanted for years, Tilly…”
“Why?” I blurt out. I turn to look at him, wanting to understand. “Sorry, I’m not fishing for compliments here, I just don’t understand what’s happening.”
On the face of it, it seems like he turned down a beautiful woman for me, but that can’t be right. I just can’t figure out his game plan.
Connor takes a few seconds (that feel like hours) to sort through his thoughts before answering. “I’m in love with you, Tilly. I want to be with you, for us to be happy together.”
“But why? I don’t understand.” I don’t mean to be awkward or abrupt, but my head feels like it’s in a vice as I try to comprehend what he’s saying.
“You don’t understand why I love you?” There’s hurt in hisvoice, which makes me feel sick with guilt. I avoid looking at his eyes, knowing full well they’ll resemble a begging puppy.
“Let’s be honest, Connor – you’re a catch. Ten out of ten in every way. You’re handsome, sexy, kind, funny, thoughtful… the list goes on! You could have any girl you wanted, you could literally take your pick! Why, when you could be with any beautiful woman in the world, would you choose me?”
“You have absolutely no idea, do you?” Connor frowns as he scans my face. He takes both my hands in his, his rough calluses rubbing against my skin in an oddly comforting way. “You are beautiful. You are hot as hell. You are the sweetest person I’ve ever known, and you are the toughest, too. It’s going to take more than me just telling you once for you to trust me, but I will spend as long as you’ll tolerate me helping you to see what I see when I look at you.”
Pretty, well-meaning lies.
He gestures to my face. “I can see you’re not convinced yet.” I never could control my expressions.
“No, I’m not,” I say honestly. “I’m just very self-aware, Connor. I know exactly what I look like and what kind of person I am, and it doesn’t make sense for you to want me the way you say you do.”
“That isn’t self-awareness, Tilly,” Connor says gently. “It’s self-deprecation. It breaks my heart that you see yourself so negatively when all anyone else sees is how wonderful you are. And, to be honest, that terrifies me because it means you could be whipped away from me at any moment.”
“Fat chance,” I snort.
“Good. Because I don’t think I’d survive it.” He leans towards me and plants a soft kiss on my lips.
I may not understand why he wants me, but with this kiss, I at least believe that he does. And for tonight, that’s enough.
Chapter 31
Every square inch of you
I wake up on the second day of our holiday with Connor’s arm slung over my waist. Since our conversation last night, Connor has been in constant physical contact with me in some way. A hand on my back, our fingers interlaced, an arm holding me tightly. And it seems even in sleep he’s managed to keep me close.
We didn’t have sex once we got back to the hotel. He kissed me endlessly and stroked the skin of my arms, my legs, my back, until we were both a panting mess, but Connor suggested we take our time with our relationship. At first, this confused me, seeing as we’re already living together and share a bed, but then the logical part of my brain took the reins from the lusty part, and I realised I was relieved that we hadn’t gone any further.
I want our first time to be amazing, so I want to make a special effort for it, which means sexy lingerie, none of which I have with me. Or own at all, for that matter. I’ve considered buying some plenty of times over the years, but I always talkmyself out of it, reasoning that it would look awful on me anyway, so why bother?
This thought process can go on for hours, spiralling out of control until I feel like shit. Worse than shit. And that’s when the dark thoughts come creeping in. They stalk in the shadows until they find me weak and vulnerable enough, then pounce, knowing I’m susceptible to their suggestions:Swerve in front of that truck. Dunk yourself underwater in the bath and stay there. Run that knife across your wrists.
Sometimes my thoughts win, as evidenced by my attempt at walking into traffic a few weeks ago.
I never fight those thoughts. It’s not that I want to die. Frankly, the thought terrifies me. But in that moment, it’s so clear to me that it would be the best thing to do for everyone’s sake.
I lie in bed worrying about where to buy underwear at the last minute and how I could lose ten pounds before Connor sees me naked. I’m teetering on the edge of a black pit of dark thoughts when the arm resting across me twitches.
Connor pulls his arm closer towards himself, leaving his hand splayed out palm-down on my tummy. I quickly suck in my stomach as far as it will go, hoping he’s still asleep and hasn’t noticed how squashy I am under his touch.
“What are you doing?” he mumbles into his pillow.
Busted.“You have your hand on my stomach,” I say quietly, as if that explains everything.
“Is that… not okay?” he asks
Not really. I always had a rule with Rhys that he wasn’t allowed to touch my stomach. It’s the part of me I’m most disgusted by.
