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“Why?” Her voice emerged as barely more than a whisper.
He took a step forward and she flinched. Not because she was afraid, not because she didn’t want him to touch her, but because she was terrified about what she would do if he were to wrap his arms around her. Fall against his chest and beg him not to leave? He froze, and his features contorted into a mask that made her whole body hurt, because it was filled with agony. Actual agony, like she’d been feeling. They were two tragic mirror images.
“I’ve been an absolute idiot.”
Her heart twisted.
“For many reasons, in many ways, but primarily, the offer I made in Italy, on the night of the wedding. It was, without a doubt, the stupidest thing I’ve ever done.”
She looked away from him, because it was hurting too much to hold his gaze, and because his words were ziptying parts of her together again.
“I just didn’t want it to end. I thought I could leverage you into staying with me—which, as I said, was really, really stupid.”
She sucked in a shaking breath, not sure how to speak, nor what to say.
“I thought we were both getting something we wanted. I thought it was ‘win, win’. But in reality, I didn’t think at all. I just spoke, from the heart.”
Her own heart did a little tremble at that.
“The thing is, Maddison,” and he must have moved again, because his hand reached for hers, and sparks erupted just beneath her skin. “I just didn’t want to let you go. I’ve never known anyone like you before; I was completely unprepared to feel what I feel for you, and I’ve spent as long as I’ve known you fighting those feelings.”
She turned back to him, slowly, her eyes finding his, probing them, wanting to understand.
His jaw clenched visibly, and she felt the undercurrent of his nervous tension—something she would have sworn Rocco would never experience.
“What are you saying?” she asked unevenly. “What do you feel?”
His smile was bittersweet, and his features bore grief. “What do you think?” He moved closer still, lifting his other hand to her cheek, touching her as though he couldn’t help himself. As though his fingers needed to glide over her cheek, to feel, to remember… “I love you.”
Her heart stammered and her pulse gushed in her ears. She shook her head. Not because she was rejecting his words but because she wasn’t sure she could possibly believe them. “You—what did you say?” Was she dreaming again? Still dreaming?
“I love you. I have fallen in love with you, and I don’t ever want to stop loving you. No, that’s not right. I’m still messing this up,” he groaned. “I can’t not love you. It’s just who I am now. You’ve become a part of me. A wonderful, beautiful, unique, glorious part.” He stroked her cheek lightly. “I know how things are between us. I know I messed everything up and that you might never forgive me, but I still just needed you to know…I love you.”
Oh, sweet Lord. She reached behind her for the door frame, needing it for support. Be sensible, her brain pleaded. Brock had said he loved her too. He’d claimed to have done the things he did because he’d loved her and hadn’t wanted it to end.
She hadn’t forgiven him. She’d been furious.
But there was a difference. A vital difference. Brock had been malicious. He had been terrifying, bordering on abusive, with his threats to spread those digital images of her. That had been a true betrayal.
Rocco had truly believed he was giving her what she wanted, giving them both what they needed. And in exchange, he’d been willing to sacrifice the development he’d worked so hard for. Because he loved her.
He just hadn’t known how to process that.
The epiphanies kept exploding inside of her, little bombs that were gradually washing away her resistance, because Rocco was nothing like Brock. Even now, Rocco was telling her he loved her without any expectation of success, simply because he wanted her to know.
“And if I ask you to go, now?” she murmured, staring at his face.
A small groan escaped his lips, and it tightened like a vice around her heart. “I’ll go,” he promised her, and she glanced beyond him to where his car sat. Memories of sharing that car with him, that first afternoon he’d come here to see her, danced like glitter on the edges of her eyes.
“I’m not asking you to leave,” she clarified softly. “I was just…wondering.”
Hope lit his eyes, but he stayed where he was. Only his thumb moved, padding the flesh to the right of her mouth, so she closed her eyes on a wave of longing.
“I never thought I would love anyone,” he admitted. “And up until I met you, it wasn’t hard to live that truth. I never met anyone who got close to making me want—need—things beyond…the physical. But with you, oh, with you, Maddie, it’s been like walking in sunshine, every single day. Warm and sustaining and beyond my wildest dreams.”
A sob bubbled up inside of her; she didn’t bother to suppress it. “Why didn’t you tell me this after the wedding?” she muttered. “This would have worked a lot better than your stupid proposition.”
“I didn’t know then. I didn’t understand, or believe me, I would have been shouting it from the rooftops. Or begging you to make use of that wonderful wedding setup and marry me then and there.”
