It hurt to breathe as I sat there absorbing his words, the simple beauty of them stunning me to silence. For a moment, my mouth worked and then I began sobbing on the spot. His words were so honest, so unexpected. He moved forward and pulled me into his arms. I wept against his hard, naked chest, his warm skin against my cheek.
But I still held that damn towel to me as tight as ever. I wasn’t brave enough yet. It was too scary. His arms tightened around me. He said he loved my soul but he had no idea of the darkness lurking down in the depths. The wretched, horrid thoughts I forced down on a daily basis. The self-loathing.
Yes, I was alive. But at what cost? Had it been worth it? I swallowed the sting of that hurt yet again and I turned and kissed his neck, his shoulder, his chest. I showered him with my love. The kisses weren’t meant to seduce or arouse, but to show him without words that I loved him too.
“I love you—so, so much,” I said. It wasn’t nearly as poetic or romantic as what he had said to me but it was all I could choke out between whimpers and sobs. He held me to him until I stopped crying and for a long time after, the only sound the crackling of the bubbles and the movement of the water around us, echoing in the white marbled bathroom.
I pressed my teary cheek to the damp skin of his shoulder and I felt calm, peaceful. When I spoke, it was with a quiet voice. “I’m scared to go home.”
“Why?”
“Because it’s been so magical here. Like a fantasy. Here, I have you all to myself. I don’t have to share you. I’m selfish but I’ve loved every minute of it.”
“You have all of me, all of the time.”
No, that wasn’t true and he knew it. There I competed with the job, the friends, all the perfect-looking women around him, co-workers, acquaintances. There, I had the constant fear that I would lose him.
“You have me, too,” I said. “Always. Forever.” For as long as that happened to last.
He kissed my neck and breathed against my cheek. “I need to tell you that I’m scared, too,” he said suddenly.
I swallowed. “About the scan?”
“Yes.”
“I guess it’s easy for me to say ‘forever’ when that might not mean a very long time.”
He pulled back and looked into my eyes. “None of us know when forever will end. It’s not just you. We never know. What makes forever worth it is each day we live and enjoy being with each other. Each day we make each other’s lives better.”
My eyes dropped and he trailed the tears on my cheeks with his thumb, outlined my lips. I kissed his fingers as he moved them over my mouth.
“So you know that my love is not about your looks…any more than yours is for me…right? Or do you love me just for how I look?”
I smiled, almost wishing I could make a joke, but I didn’t want to spoil the moment. “Hmm. I love the man who makes breakfast for me even when he can’t make toast without burning it.” He laughed, continued to trace his fingers over my mouth, my jaw. I closed my eyes, relishing the feel.
“I love the man who signs his notes to me with a lopsided heart. I love the man who…listens to songs only old people and hipsters know.” He barked out another laugh. I smiled. “I love the man who was there for me…all the time, even when I wasn’t there.”
Silence again and the bubbles fizzed around us.
Minutes later, muttering that I was turning into a prune, I carefully got out of the tub. He lay back and watched me cinch a fluffy terry robe around me before finally dropping the now-soaked towel. I snagged the other bathrobe and laid it near, where he could grab it when he got out.
“Hey, farm girl, what about me? Do I get my back washed?”
I sent him a lopsided grin and ducked my head. “As you wish.”
But it was hard—damn hard, rubbing the soapy washcloth over his muscular back, down his trapezius muscles and then down to his lower back along his latissimus dorsi, then to his narrow waist. Oh God, he was just too sexy for his own good. And touching him had riled me up again. It wasn’t fair. I was healthy enough to have an over-the-top sex drive but apparently not healthy enough for him until that clean scan came back. I sat back with a sigh of sexual frustration.
“There. And now, I’ll be in my bunk,” I said.
Adam laughed. Firefly was one of his favorite shows.
I got up and went into the bedroom where I sat in the dark and listened to him in the bathtub. The real reason I’d gotten out of the tub was that it hurt too much to keep hiding myself from him. I knew he’d wanted me to drop the towel and stop covering myself. I was hiding from him, in so many ways. Hiding from myself too.