“Well, what can I say? Professional stylists are useful to have around.” I blushed. Damn it.
He laughed quietly. “Yeah. It's the stylists. Not the happiness in your eyes or the smile that won't leave your face.”
“That probably helps, right?” I craned my neck back to look at him.
“It's everything, angel.” He pushed a loose strand of hair back into place. “Absolutely everything.”
I swallowed hard. He was wearing the suit damn well, but like he was saying to me, there was something else about him that had my heart pounding. “We need to talk. Or I need to talk and you need to listen. One of those.”
He raised his eyebrows. “Right now?”
“Right now.” I nodded, then turned around and leaned against the wall. “You were right. Yesterday. To give me space.”
He didn't say anything, just patiently watched me with hesitance in his eyes.
“Do you want to go somewhere quieter?” West asked when I didn't continue. He brushed back another strand of my hair that had fallen in front of my face.
I nodded, and he took my hand. I lifted my dress as we walked down the few steps from the patio to the grass. I'd changed out of my heels before dinner to rest my feet—Allie had stashed flats under the table—and thankfully, I hadn't changed back, or walking across the grass would have been near impossible.
The further away from the building we got the quieter and more relaxed the air became. Even if West did have to kick a soccer ball back to the kids two or three times because it'd rolled a little too far. After a couple of minutes though, we reached a part of the grounds where there was silence except for the tweeting of birds and water from the small fountain in the middle. The sweet scent of roses filled the air, and I perched on the edge of the seat of a wooden bench. He sat next to me, and we both watched as the water shot up from the center of the fountain then splashed back down into the pool.
I swallowed hard as what I wanted to say clogged in a lump in my throat. My chest felt tight, and the thought of speaking sent chills down my arms.
Why was it so hard to form words? Was I overthinking what I had to say?
Of course I was overthinking it. I overthought everything. That was why we were in this situation where this conversation was even necessary. I'd overthought every little detail and risked everything because my mind had the uncanny ability to create problems that didn't even exist—that probably never would.
“Is it crazy if I tell you I missed you last night?” West's quiet words broke through the silence we were sitting in.
“Is it crazy if I tell you I missed you last night?” I asked right back, still watching the fountain. “Because if it is, then the answer is yes. It's crazy.”
“It's crazy,” he confirmed. “But then again, I've been crazy since the moment I met you.”
I looked down at my feet. The stones crunched beneath my shoes as I stretched my legs out a little. “I met with the girls yesterday, after you left. Once they'd got past their horror at the fact I let you leave, we actually had a good conversation about everything.”
He waited again. God, he was so patient. For talking, at least. Not so much for the other stuff.
“They told me to stop thinking about what my life would be like with you in it and start thinking about what it'd be like without you.”
I felt his gaze as he turned to look at me. “Did you?”
Slowly, I nodded. Emotion closed up my throat again. I knew I had to be honest with him and pretty much pull my heart out of my body and give him the option to break it, so I stood to put some physical distance between us. It was the only way I'd be able to close the emotional canyon I'd created.
“I hated the thought of it,” I admitted, watching the fountain water splash into the pool. “I hated knowing it meant I wouldn't hear your voice every day—even your laugh. I know I'm a little hard work. I create endless scenarios of disaster in my mind from the realistic to the impossible and all the stupid in between, but more so with you than anyone else I've ever met. Now I've realized, it's because I care about you more, and that means there's more to lose.” I turned, my teeth sinking into my bottom lip, and met his eyes. “There's so much of you worth keeping that losing any of it at all would hurt. Bad. I'm not afraid of you. I'm afraid of losing you. The only way to avoid losing you, in my mind, is not to have you at all.”
His lips pulled up to one side. “Hate to break it to you, angel, but you already have all of me.”
“And I can't make that change, so it's scary. The way I feel about you is scary too. Everything you are, we are, is petrifying to me, West. If something went wrong and I lost you, I'm almost certain I'd lose a part of me too.”