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“It sounds like it. Underneath all that bravado, you’re a worried little boy,” she teased, her eyes sparkling.
“Worried?” I growled, feeling the heat rise in my chest.
“That you’ll lose what you think is yours,” she said softly.
“You are mine, and I’m not worried,” I said firmly.
“Keep telling yourself that,” she murmured, her tone almost resigned.
“Are you looking for a fight?” I asked, frustration lacing my voice.
“I think it’s time we got out of the tub,” Erika said, standing up with a graceful movement.
I reached out, pulling her back against me, my arms wrapping around her chest. “You always do this,” I said, my voice a mix of irritation and longing. “You evade discussions rather than finish them.”
“I don’t want to argue. You know my history. I refuse to bring chaos into my life now,” she said, her voice firm but tired.
“But we’re not arguing,” I said, my voice softening.
“Let me go, Lincoln,” she insisted, her tone leaving no room for negotiation.
The use of my name was a final signal, and I released her immediately. Erika stood up, grabbing a thick cream-colored towel from the bar near the tub. She wrapped it around herself and stepped onto the beige mat, leaving me alone in the dimly lit bathroom.
As the door closed behind her, I sat in the cooling water, feeling the storm outside match the turmoil within me. I remained in the tub, the water slowly chilling, as I pondered how to address what had just happened. Everything about this relationship was new to me, and the only example of a strong, lasting relationship I had was my parents, who had been together for over thirty-five years.
I found Erika sitting on the window seat in the master bedroom, a serene nook flanking the French doors that led out to the terrace. She was lost in the pages of a book from the shelves built into the seat, her focus intent as I approached.
Her blue eyes met mine as I drew closer, and I noticed the weariness etched into her features. I offered her a tentative smile, trying to bridge the distance between us.
“What are you reading?” I asked gently, my voice barely above a whisper.
“Paradise Lost,” she replied, her tone flat.
“I didn’t know you were religious,” I said, curiosity tinged with concern.
“I’m not,” she said, closing the book and setting it aside. “I’m spiritual, and after today, I think it’s fitting.”
“Our paradise is not lost,” I said, my voice earnest. “Tell me how to make it better.”
Erika looked up at me, her eyes reflecting a mix of sadness and resolve. “I’m not sure we can make it better. You’re jealous, and I’m insecure. In some ways, you’re insecure, too. We both need stable people to hold us together.”
“I am stable,” I insisted, frustration bubbling under the surface. “I’m just a novice at relationships. Don’t end what we have because of fear. We can work this out together.”
“Why are you afraid?” she asked, her voice softening.
“Of losing you,” I admitted, my heart laid bare. “Sometimes I wake up at night, and I feel you in my arms. It makes me think how lucky I am to have found my soulmate so soon. Some people spend a lifetime searching for theirs.”
“You think I’m your soulmate?” she asked, her voice barely audible.
“I do,” I said, my hand reaching out to brush a strand of her damp hair from her face. “I’ve never been in sync with someone like this before. I can only chalk it up to us sharing souls.”
I sat down next to her, and she leaned her head onto my shoulder. Her damp hair was warm against my skin, and I ran my fingers through it, feeling her relax in my touch. Her soft hum of contentment filled the quiet room.
“I love you, Elliott,” she murmured.
“I love you, too,” I replied, my voice thick with emotion. “We can make this work. I know we can.”
“I hope so,” she whispered, her voice tinged with uncertainty but also a flicker of hope.
