“Paninis. They’re in the fridge.”
I’m staring at him, but I can’t seem to stop. I’m not hungry and I couldn’t care less about the sandwiches, from Leo’s or elsewhere. What I do care about more than anything else in the world is this man standing before me. Instead of responding, I ask the one question I swore I never would. The one question that strips me bare. The one that requires the truth from him. A truth I fear because I know he’ll give it, no-holds-barred, and I have no idea what it will be.
“Do you love me, Tomasetti?”
He’s not an easy man to read, but I perceive surprise in the way his eyes dart away, in the way he shifts his weight away from me, as if there’s a part of him that would like nothing more than to slink back into the darkness and not deal with this. With me. But it’s too late to take back the words.
“You know I do,” he tells me.
“Actually, I don’t know or I wouldn’t have asked. Sometimes you say things, and I’m not sure you mean them.”
“I’ve never lied to you, Kate.”
“You haven’t lied. But you haven’t been completely honest, either.”
“I don’t know what that means.”
“It means we’ve been dancing around some issues we need to deal with.”
When he says nothing, I feel the blood leave my head. A physical reaction that takes me a moment to identify. I’m scared, I realize. I’m afraid I’m not handling this the right way. That I’m going to say something wrong. That we’re going to somehow blow what we have and he’s going to walk away.
“Tomasetti, there’s a part of you that you refuse to share with me. A part you keep tucked away, unavailable. That’s not honest.”
“I told you about my past. I told you what I did. I told you I wasn’t going to be easy.”
“I don’t care about easy.”
He shrugs. “That’s the best I can do right now.”
“I don’t believe that.”
“What do you want from me?”
“I want all of you. I don’t think that’s too much to ask.”
“I’m not sure what we’re talking about here.”
“I don’t want to share you with them anymore.” Taking a step closer, I press my hand to my chest. “I’ll never rate and I’m not sure I’ll ever garner the kind of love you had for them.”
“That’s not true,” he says with some heat.
“I’m sorry you lost them. I’m sorry they were hurt and your life was devastated. But they’re gone now, and I’m here. I’m alive and I want to build a life with you. You have to choose.”
At first I think he’s going to turn around and walk away. Instead, he rounds the table and starts toward me. He doesn’t rush, doesn’t give me a clue as to what he’s thinking or feeling. His eyes are level on mine, but I don’t know if he’s going to rail against the words I’ve just thrown at him—or admit they’re true. My heart is like a drum against my ribs. My head feels light, a head rush from standing too fast. Sweat slicks the back of my neck and palms. For a crazy instant, I consider turning around and running out the door and into the night. But the intellectual side of my brain reminds me of what’s at stake. However it turns out, I need to finish it.
He touches my arms first, his fingers wrapping around my biceps. Then he’s pushing me backwards, one step, two. My back hits the doorframe, the knob bumping my hip with so much force that the picture on the wall rattles.
His eyes lock with mine. In the depth of his gaze, I see a jumble of emotions, none of which I can read. The kiss that follows isn’t gentle. Yet I sense the fragility of the moment, something intangible slipping from my grasp even as something else settles more securely inside me.
“You’re wrong,” he tells me.
“Prove it.”
As he lowers his mouth to mine, I experience a fleeting sense of defeat followed by the realization that I’m no longer in control of the situation—or my life. That maybe I haven’t been for a long time and I was a fool to believe I could maintain that grasp. It stuns me to realize I’m willing to accept that. For the first time in my life, I’ve relinquished my heart and given someone else the power to hurt me. The thought terrifies me because I know there’s a part of him I don’t trust not to do just that.
CHAPTER 19