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“I don’t want to be an imposition...”
“It wasn’t an imposition,” I said with a shrug. “I... I liked...”
He reached for the tray and set it down on the bedside table, then took my hand in his and pulled me until I was sitting on the edge of the bed.
“You liked what?” he said, looking intently into my eyes.
I felt flustered and cast my gaze down to his chest. “I guess with you being sick... and quiet... well, it was nice. I saw a more vulnerable side of you, and I...”
“So, you liked being here? With me?” he ventured.
I sucked in my cheeks, expecting him to add some snotty comment. When he said nothing, I looked into his eyes and nodded, holding back tears. What if he didn’t feel the same as I did? What if he thought I was just another one of those girls who had tried to see him when he was sick?
I waited with bated breath.
“I liked having you here with me, too,” he said softly. I’d never heard him use that tone before. Not while he was sick. Not when speaking to anyone else. Not even that one time we’d made love. “And I would like it if you could stay.”
I couldn’t help but smile. My heart pounded with joy and my eyes filled with blissful tears. I wanted to fall into his arms, lay upon his chest and hold him forever, but I was frozen in place, afraid that it was all a ruse.
“I’m a complicated man,” he said as he ran his fingers through my hair then cupped my cheek. “But, I’m a good man.”
I snorted softly. “Funny. That’s what your mother said of you.”
Smiling, he cocked his head to the side. “My mother said I was complicated?”
I smiled back at him, enjoying the verbal sparring. “Actually, I believe the word she used was ‘difficult’.”
He laughed and squeezed my hand. “Yeah. That’s my mother all right.”
We sat in silence for a long moment. The air was thick with our mixed emotions, neither seemingly willing to put themselves out there.
“I never really got the chance to tell you just how happy I am that you won the competition,” he finally said.
“I am pretty proud of myself,” I said, jutting out my chin.
“As you should be.”
He gently pulled me to him, his free hand coming up to grasp my elbow and pull me closer. “The least I can do is give you a congratulatory kiss.”
“The least...” I whispered as my eyelids grew heavy and my lips readied for his.
His lips just barely brushed against mine, as if testing the waters, then grew hungrier as his mouth took over mine.
“I’m such a dunce for rejecting you the way I did,” he said when he pulled away from the kiss.
“You have been quite... well... mean.”
“I think I was afraid of what you did to me... how you made me feel. I wasn’t ready for that.”
“And now?” I said.
He looked me in the eye. “I love you, Layla.”
I was stunned by his words.
“I love you,” he said again before kissing me.
Those three little words opened up a whole new world for both of us.
