“Harper?” He eased to his side, taking some of his weight from her, even as his arm tightened around her. “I love you.”
He’d put his hand on her cheek and turned her face to his as if he’d known she wouldn’t quite be able to process those three little words the first time he said them. And it was so tempting to say them back, her own I love you, too, right there on the tip of her tongue.
But the words wouldn’t come, almost as if they were locked up tight inside her, and she couldn’t find the key.
She could tell him about her fears—that he’d tire of her and Jeremy, that surely he couldn’t want to take both of them on when all the other men she’d come across had been horrified at the thought. But she already knew what he’d say—I’m not like them. And he wasn’t, because she knew how kind and generous he was.
Unfortunately, that fact didn’t change the others—his money, his lifestyle, or his ability to take whatever he wanted.
Harper knew her own self-worth, and yet, with the penthouse apartment, the limo, and the glittering jewels of all the people fawning over Will tonight... honestly, she couldn’t help but feel out of her depth. It had been like being tossed straight into the deep end when she was only just learning to swim.
More than anything, she wanted to love with her full heart and soul. All the way, nothing held back. Wanted it more than she’d ever wanted anything in her life. And she knew he’d talk her out of every single doubt.
But how could she tell him she loved him unless she was able to talk herself out of those doubts?
When she looked back up at him, he was frowning. Her throat felt tight, her chest ached, and she wished she could tell him what he wanted to hear. Wished she was ready, that she was already there. “Will—”
Before she could try to figure out what else to say, he surprised her yet again by saying, “You’re smart not to say it back to me, Harper.”
Wait...he didn’t want her to say she loved him? Why would she be smart to hold a part of herself back from him?
But before she could voice any of those questions, he said, “You should know I’m not a nice guy. That’s why I haven’t told you how I felt about you. Because I’m not good enough for you. And yet I can’t make myself stay away even though I should.”
Not good enough for her? Will Franconi thought he was the one who wasn’t good enough?
All of this made her head whirl. It was happening so fast and was all so unexpected. Not just how sweet he’d been from the first day she and Jeremy had met him, but also how much he’d done for them since. And how much she wanted to let herself love him, all the way, with nothing held back. This was just supposed to be a thrill ride. But somehow, it had turned into so much more. And now that everything she’d been telling herself was true had spun on its ear, she didn’t know what to think. Or how to feel.
She knew only one thing. “No one has ever been nicer to me,” she told him. “Or to Jeremy.”
“That’s now. But back then—” He broke off and his chest rose with a deep breath as if he was trying to force himself to do something painful. “Remember when I said some kids were bullying Matt the day I met him?”
She could feel his heartbeat beneath her fingertips. “Yes. And you rescued him.”
“Evan, Daniel, and Sebastian rescued him, Harper.” He looked her straight in the eye. “I was one of those bullies.”
CHAPTER TWENTY-EIGHT
Harper tipped her head back to look at him. The strong lines of his face were tense, the bedside lamp casting dark shadows across one half.
“You were bullying him?” She shook her head, unable to put the amazing man she’d fallen for in that picture, even as a boy. “I can’t believe that.”
His jaw flexed. “Believe it.”
“But I’ve seen you with Matt’s son, Noah. I’ve seen the way that little boy looks at you, and the way Matt trusts you. How could he trust you with his son if you did that?” No father would have let a son of his near the man who’d been his bully when he was a child.
He filled his lungs with another deep breath. “Because, in the end, I changed.” He exhaled sharply. “I changed my mind.”
“I don’t understand.” And she truly didn’t—couldn’t understand anything he was saying to her when it was the exact opposite of what she’d come to know about him.
“I belonged to a gang. In my neighborhood, you were either a bully or you got bullied,” he said in rapid-fire bursts. “You had to act like them to be accepted. So I did.”
His arm still bound her to him as if he was afraid she’d get away. Reaching up, she forced his palm against her cheek, holding him, too, as she tried to piece it all together.