“Hey,” he says. Kissing the tip of my nose. “That doesn’t mean I don’t feel it.”
My breath hitches, yet I’ll admit my surprise is brief. Maybe I’m too much of a girl, but if he can’t say it, it’s hard to believe he can mean it.
“It’s not about the sex,” he says. “That’s not why I’m asking you to move in, if that’s what you’re thinking. I don’t like being without you. Every time you go home to your folks . . .” He shrugs. “I don’t know. I just hate it when you’re gone.”
“I know,” I tell him.
“Do you?” he asks, cocking his head. “Cause it’s the truth.”
I nod, but the motion is so subtle, I’m not sure he notices. “I can tell by the way you hold me, and how you’re always careful not to hurt me.”
“So then what’s bothering you?” He makes a face. “Besides your dad hunting me down and burying me beneath a plantain tree like he told me he would.”
“It was a mango tree,” I clarify. We’re both trying to make light of it, but he’s not coaxing that smile he wants from me, and I can’t seem to rile it either.
“Babe,” he says, rubbing his forehead with mine.
“Finn, I start the path to my doctoral program in the fall. It’s a hard course, and the money I’ve saved will only cover minimal expenses―”
“I’m not asking you to pay rent, utilities, or even groceries. I’m only telling you I want you with me.” He adjusts his position. “Kill and Sofia lived together before they were married. Yeah, her mom and Teo didn’t like it, but it worked out for them.”
“But Sofia wasn’t completely dependent on Killian,” I remind him. “She worked and earned her own money. Finn, I won’t be able to do that.”
“I don’t care. I’ll take care of you.”
“I don’t want you to take care of me.” I don’t mean it the way it comes out, and the hurt registering in his face makes me instantly regret what I said. I press my hand against his chest. “You know what I mean, right? All this is too soon and a lot more than I’m ready for.”
“I’m not asking you to marry me,” he says.
“I know,” I respond, my quiet tone reflecting my disappointment. While I’m not ready for marriage, it would mean more if that’s what he was asking.
His hand glides along my curve of my waist, his voice lowering from the depth of his emotions. “Me asking you to move in was supposed to be a good thing― Show you that I’m serious about us, and prove you’re the only one I want to be with.”
“I know,” I tell him, unable to meet his eyes. “But I can’t.”
For a few long minutes, neither of us speaks. Our chests are touching, but he feels so far away. “Finn, don’t push me away,” I say when he withdraws.
He squares his jaw. “I’m not the one keeping us apart,” he answers.
His words just about kill me. My eyes sting, blurring my vision. But as tough as he is, I swear my tears are his kryptonite.
“Sol, don’t,” he says gathering me to him. “Look . . . I’m not trying to hurt you.”
He clutches me as I weep against his chest. I don’t mean to get so upset, and it’s not something I generally do around him. He’s my heaven on earth. But the fact that I am makes me realize exactly how much I’ve been holding in. “I’m living a fantasy with you,” I tell him.
“A sexual one?” he asks.
He’s trying to make me laugh, and he does, even as my tears finish falling. I meet his face, my smile soft yet somehow there because of him. “What I mean is, my life with you doesn’t feel real sometimes. It’s more like a dream, an escape to someplace better. We laugh, have fun, attend events and enjoy each other, you know?”
He nods, like he understands. “Yeah. It’s been real good. That’s why I’m asking you to live with me. I like what we have and want to keep it going.”
“But it’s not reality, Finn. At least my reality. It’s only a temporary reprieve from my problems.”
“You mean your mom,” he clarifies.
Catholic guilt is such a bitch. “Yes, my mom. I’ve ignored her to be with you. It’s not right, and I hate myself for subbing out time with her just to be happy.”
“You’ve had it rough. Is it such a bad thing to be happy? To want some joy after all the shit you’ve been through? I hope not,” he murmurs when I don’t answer. “Because that kind of happy―the kind I don’t have to fake is what I feel when I’m with you.”
“I feel it, too,” I tell him gently.
“Good,” he says. He lifts his hand to hold my face, his stare so intense I grow perfectly still. “Because I think we both damn well deserve it.”