“Nothing wrong with that.” He shrugs one shoulder with a smile.
“Boris Lebovski might not agree with you.”
“I’ll cry myself to sleep over that.” Three steps away from me is where he stops.
“I cried myself to sleep too,” I suddenly confess.
His mouth falls slightly ajar. “I’m sorry.” His face is pained.
“I thought you used me to get your company back and then decided to disregard me like week-old garbage.”
“Not a week-old though. Just a few days.”
I step forward and punch his shoulder, making him laugh.
“I’m sorry, Mae.” His voice turns into a whisper.
“Why didn’t you call?”
“I wanted to have proof for the things I wanted to say. I don’t know how to talk beautifully. I know nothing about pretty bows on top of confessions. I just know actions. Actions prove more than any words would.” He’s not moving forward even though I want him to. I think he’s giving me the control here.
“What did you want to say?”
His hand touches my cheek. “That I fell in love with my wife.” His finger moves to my chin. “That I fell in love with her long before I even knew her name.” It touches my lower lip. “I love you, Maeve. Even though you might hate me now, I still love you. And I can wait until you love me back.”
Swallowing a big lump in my throat, I open my mouth tospeak, but nothing comes out. So I try again. “I—I love you too. I told you that already.”
His eyes widen. “So you were first with the love declaration. I thought I dreamed it.”
Rolling my eyes, I smack his shoulder again. “C’mon. Did you really need to ruin the sappy moment I was living for?”
His laugh sounds relieved. “Sorry. Couldn’t help myself. Can you repeat that part though?”
“Which one?”
“About loving me.”
“No! You ruined it.”
“Maeve,” he says with a warning.
“No! Go away!”
“Maeve,” he growls, pulling me in and bringing me flush to his front. “Say it.”
I rise on my tippytoes and say right into his face, “No.”
Growling louder, he pushes his nose into mine. I expect him to kiss me, and I want him to, but knowing Ezra, he won’t let it slide until he gets what he wants.
“Maeve,” comes as a low warning. “Say it.”
“Say it first.”
“I love you, wife,” he says without hesitation. “For better and for worse. Your turn now.”
My resolve melts away, giving in to the desire to make him happy. “I love you too.” Then I add with a slight wince, “And maybe I overreacted a little bit. You know, back then. I just thought you’d call, and we’d resolve it, but you went radio silent.”
“I’m sorry about that. Sometimes I have a hard time reading your mind.”
