She presses two fingertips between her brows, taking a few laboured breaths before she lowers her hand. “I appreciate what you did out there, with my dad, but I wish you hadn’t. It didn’t feel appropriate.”
I sift through possible meanings for her words. I wasn’t violent, at least not much, considering her father deserves to have his skull smashed in.
She shakes out her hands, then clasps them tight. “I feel… I feel weird about it.”
“You’re going to have to give me more than that. I don’t know what you mean.”
“I don’t like how it makes me feel.”
“Which is?”
“Like I’m helpless and useless. Weak. I’m not. I refused to walk down the aisle with a man my father chose. I refused to marry a man I didn’t love. I didn’t do what my father wanted, and finally pushing him away took so much strength it nearly broke me.” A frustrated groan breaks her flow. “I’m working really hard to get this business off the ground. To bring in my own money. To make something of myself. To launch my course. I hate feeling like all of that doesn’t count because I still need someone like you to step in and fight for me.”
“I didn’t intend for you to feel that way. I—” I cut myself off because she’s anchoring her bottom lip with her teeth, and her eyes are welling with tears.
“And you know what’s worse?” she says, voice trembling. “It feels like maybe you did it because…”
Her breath hitches.
“Because?” I coax.
A helpless-sounding sob slips between her lips, which she covers with her fingers before she mumbles, “Because you care.”
The words, which she obviously didn’t want to say, thump against my ribs. I let my eyes fall shut momentarily.I do care. I care too much about this young woman; it feels like I always will. “I did it because your father is an ass, and I didn’t think you were going to be able to shake him off. I also didn’t want you starting a brawl in the middle of the street.”
She offers me the tiniest of nods, a repetitive, nervous motion that’s not much more than her chin quivering. “Okay. Thank you. That’s a good reason.”
“I thought so.”
Her hand flits to her mouth and away again. “I’m really trying.”
I step closer, and she glances up at me through her lashes. “I know. Do you think I can’t see you? Do you think I haven’tnoticed how hard you’re working? How capable you are? How organised and competent?”
She lowers her head, but I ease her chin up with my forefinger. I shouldn’t touch her. Absolutely shouldn’t do it, but it feels necessary. Her large brown eyes meet mine. “What happened out there doesn’t set you back. You’re doing so well. I’ve been watching your videos.”
Her eyes widen. “You’ve been watching without me?”
I nod, wanting to tell her she looks beautiful in every single one. That I can’t stop watching them. That opening my phone and scrolling her content is my new favourite thing to do.“They’re good. Engaging. You’ve got so many followers.”
“Yes. It’s going well. I’m pleased.”
“You should be. You’re very good at what you do. You’re not helpless or hopeless. Quite the opposite. Soon, you won’t need anyone to provide for you. You’ll be doing it all on your own. But even if you have everything figured out, have all your needs met, it’s okay to accept help. It doesn’t make you weak, and if your father thinks it does, then that’s on him.” My next confession stalls on my tongue, but only for a moment. “And I do care about you. Very much. How could I not care after sitting at your side and watching you work? Seeing you grow? How could I not care when I’ve spent so much time with you? How could I not care when you—”
Are everything to me.
“When I?” she asks, so, so quietly.
“When you live with me,” I finish, but it’s painfully obvious that’s not what I was going to say.
She takes shallow breaths, her eyes locked on mine. For a few twisted seconds, we stay like that, my forefinger pressed beneath her chin.
Connected.
We’re alone and standing too close. Far,fartoo close.
There’s no one around, and only the distant hum of guests arriving in the main atrium serves as a reminder that there are other people in the building.
An impulse strikes me to stroke my thumb across her cheekbone or slip my hand around her neck. Press my lips to hers. It would be so easy. Automatic, almost.