“I’m not avoiding conversation.”
“Then let’s talk about last night.”
“What about it?” His eyes slightly narrow.
“There’s nothing to be defensive about, Dean.” I replicate our position from last night. “You said some things that left me confused and I spent all night thinking about them. I need you to tell me why you decided now was the right time.” My mind is spinning, not because of confusion but because I have many questions to ask. “You left a date to comfort me, why? And what do you meanuseyou?”
“You done?” There’s a rift of humour slipping through.
I swallow my frustration. How can I not when he’s staring at me likethat? All gentle and soft and somewhat smiley.
Dragging my teeth over my bottom lip, “I can keep going.”
“I have no doubt,” he mumbles, eyes on my mouth.
“You’re here to find love,” it’s not a question but I nod nonetheless even though it couldn’t be further from the truth.
“And I came here to find…” He trails off and I’m fully expecting him to say love, but his brows pinch together, and his gaze takes on a softness I can’t understand because I’ve only seen it once and it’s the way Easton looks at Nadine.
I wrap my arms around myself. “To find what?”
“Love,” his voice cracks at the end. There’s an unwanted touch to it, but it’s only because no one tries to speak to them about their internal selves.
I was right. But what Dean doesn’t know is if he thinks love is with me, then he’s wrong. I don’t… I can’t… don’t have the privilege of feelings like that.
I glance away, feeling the heaviness of his words. “Katarina’s a good woman,” I say with faux confidence. “She can make you happy.”
“I didn’t ask,” he grumbles.
“And Rhys is a good man.”
“He pours milk before his cereal,” he grumbles.
I almost smile at that. “If you don’t tell me why you confessed, then I’m going to act like those feelings don’t exist.” My face sobers. “I’ve spent my life catering to everyone else’s feelings without knowing them. I’m not willing to do that for you unless you’re ready to share.”
How do you expect me to accept someone when they won’t break their feelings down for me? I’m a visual learner and there’s nothing visual about love.
Silence.
“I thought so.” I run a hand behind Lottie’s ear to wake her up. When she does, she stares with those long doe-eyes.
Somehow, despite that. I’m willing to… try.
“I’ve never thought of you in any way other than as a client,” Lottie moves to Dean. I stand up.
My robe falls open at the tiniest swish of air. “But I’ve suddenly become aware of you, Dean Vuk.”
His hands are there before mine are. Warm fingers brush against my calves, pulling the ends of the fabric together.
He looks up. Those green eyes of his, vulnerable in the daylight. Dusk pours into his hair and it takes a lot of self-preservation not running my fingers through them.
“Just,” it comes out gravelly and desperate as he grips the material of my robe. “Give me some time.”
On a random Sunday, three years after knowing Dean Vuk, I’m beginning to question the reason I never dated or cared for love is because he existed.
“Okay, but I’d still like to get to you.” I nod. “I can’t replicate your feelings, but I want to learn them. I want to spend more time with you, Dean.”
In a low, deep voice, “I’d like that.”
