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“All right. What is it?”
“I’m not sophisticated. Or classy. I’m not someone who can eat without spilling food all over myself. Or hold a conversation about what’s going on in politics. I don’t know what good art looks like. I’ve never listened to classical music. I’m not really all that smart. I spend my time with my mind in the clouds, dreaming about the stories I read.
“The truth is that I started reading to take me away from everything because I was so lonely growing up. I could go to a new world, a new place, have a different family in those stories. That’s what I love doing. Reading books. And not . . . not nonfiction or . . . or classical stories like the ones in the library here. I like romance. I like Happy-Ever-After. I miss those books! Also, I’m kind of clumsy and forgetful and I miss hugging people. And I like to hold hands. And kiss. And . . . and . . . I can’t be cool and classy. I’m sorry.”
There. Now. She’d said it.
And he was still silent.
Well, at least he now knew the truth. She was tired of trying to pretend to be something she wasn’t.
“Is that why you’ve been wearing these clothes?” He ran his finger over the silk shirt and then the black pants.
He didn’t like her clothes?
“I thought they were classy. I saw them online and they looked gorgeous on the model. But when I put them on, they seemed completely different.”
“And that’s why you’ve been so quiet? And you’ve been trying to read books from the library here?”
“I figured they must be the books you like reading since you own them.”
“Ahh.” He ran a finger over her pants. “And the reason you have stopped running to hug me when I come home, or insisting that I say goodbye, or coming and sitting on my lap whenever you feel like it is because . . . you think I don’t want that?”
“You’re not a touchy-feely person. Not in front of other people, at least. You always sort of froze when I did it. So, I didn’t want to make you uncomfortable with all my touchy-feely stuff.”
“All of your touchy-feely stuff.”
“But I’m not very good at being classy and sophisticated, as you just saw! And now I wrecked what was probably some priceless vase, which I don’t know how I’ll ever repay you for. Unless I can make a go of writing. And I hate reading those books. I only like reading romance, but I don’t want you to be ashamed of me.”
He ran his hand over his face and she braced herself for his disappointment. For him to tell her that if she wanted to be with him, she had to try harder.
Regent kept his hand over his face for long moments.
Shit. This was bad.
Jilly, you idiot.
“How much did that vase cost?” she whispered.
Perhaps she could get two jobs.
“Do you want me to leave?” she asked.
He moved his hands to her hips, holding them tight. “You are going nowhere, and I never want to hear you say that again.I told you that if you came here, there would be no leaving me, ever. Didn’t I?”
“Yes. Sorry,” she whispered. “I guess I thought you might have changed your mind.”
“Fuck, Jilly.”
“You’re really mad, huh? Did the vase mean a lot to you? It had sentimental value, didn’t it? I’ll get three jobs. And I’ll work harder to be the sort of woman you need. I promise.”
Just don’t make me leave.
“I’ve failed you so badly.”
Um. What?
That was the last thing she expected him to say.
