Page 24 of Resisting the Handsome Doctor
"No. I think I'm good." I sit down, and he sits across from me.
"We could leave," Owen says. "If you want. I can drive you home. We can figure out your car situation in the morning."
"Where are you staying?"
"Granddad's house."
"You should go. You probably want to see him. I can call a cab."
"Ivy, I'm not leaving you here alone."
"I'm fine."
"You keep saying that, but I don't think you mean it."
He's right. I'm not fine. I'm a mess. I'm sitting across from the man I've been in love with for fifteen years, the man who just told me he feels the same way, and I'm too terrified to say the words back.
"Talk to me," Owen says gently. "Please. Tell me what's going on in your head."
"I can't."
"Why not?"
"Because if I start talking, I'm going to say things I can't take back."
"Maybe that's not a bad thing."
Chapter 6 - Owen
"Maybe that's not a bad thing," I say, and I mean it.
Ivy looks at me like I've just suggested we jump off a cliff together. Which, in a way, I guess I have.
"Owen, you don't understand—"
"Then help me understand." I lean forward, trying to keep my voice gentle. Trying not to push even though every instinct I have is screaming at me to just ask her directly. To make her tell me what she's thinking. "Whatever you're afraid of saying, it can't be worse than not knowing."
She's quiet for a long moment, staring at her hands. I can see her brain working, can practically see the spreadsheet she's creating in her head. Pro and con lists. Risk assessments. Ivy's never been spontaneous, even in high school, she was the girl who color-coded her class notes and had her college applications done three months early.
I remember Levi complaining about it once. "She won't even pick a restaurant without researching reviews first. It's exhausting."
I'd thought it was charming.
I still do.
"I need time," she finally says. "To think. To process. This whole night has been..." She gestures helplessly. "A lot."
Disappointment settles in my chest, but I push it down. She's right. I've dumped fifteen years of feelings on her in the span of a few hours. That's not fair. That's not how this is supposed to work.
"Okay," I say. "Take all the time you need."
She looks up, surprised. "Really?"
"Really. I'm not going anywhere." I pause. "Well, I mean, I'm going back to the city on Monday. But I'm here all weekend. And I have a phone. And email. And I'm told there's this thing called texting now that the kids are really into."
That gets a small smile. Progress.
"I just don't want to mess this up," she says quietly. "Whatever this is."
