Page 21 of Resisting the Handsome Doctor
I look at him. At the way he's leaning toward me, elbows on the table. At the way his eyes haven't left my face since he sat down. At the way he's smiling like he knows something I don't.
"I still don't know what we're doing," I admit.
"I do."
"Yeah?"
"Yeah." He reaches across the table and takes my hand. Again. He keeps doing that: touching me, holding my hand, like it's the most natural thing in the world. "I'm falling for you. Again. Still. I don't even know anymore. But I'm here, and you're here, and I'm done pretending I'm not completely gone for you."
My heart stops. Restarts. Does a somersault.
"Owen—"
"You don't have to say anything," he says quickly. "I'm not asking you to feel the same way. I'm just telling you where I am. So, you know. So, there's no confusion."
But I do feel the same way. I've felt the same way since I was seventeen. I just need to say it. Five seconds of bravery. That's all it takes.
I open my mouth. Close it. Try again.
"I—"
"Owen Harper, is that you?" A booming voice interrupts, and I look up to see Coach Patterson heading our way. He was our gym teacher and football coach, a wall of a man with a handlebar mustache and a tendency to yell motivational speeches at inappropriate times.
Owen's hand tightens on mine, but he plasters on a smile. "Hey, Coach."
"Damn, son, you look good! City life treating you well?" Coach claps him on the shoulder hard enough to make Owen wince. "I heard you're a doctor now. Your granddad must be proud."
"He is. Thanks, Coach."
"And who's this lovely lady?" Coach turns to me, and I brace myself for the inevitable blank look.
But instead, he grins. "Ivy Rose! I remember you. Quiet girl, always had your nose in a book. You were in my health class, right?"
I blink. "Um. Yes?"
"Thought so. You wrote a hell of an essay on nutrition. Best one in the class." He nods approvingly. "Good to see you, kid."
He wanders off, and I'm left staring after him in shock.
Owen is trying not to laugh. "Did Coach Patterson just remember you better than half the popular kids?"
"I think he did."
"That essay must have been really good."
"It was about how the food pyramid is basically propaganda for the dairy industry."
Now he does laugh. "Of course it was."
I'm smiling. Actually smiling. Because Coach Patterson remembered me. And Owen is sitting here holding my hand like he never wants to let go.
And the words are right there. Right on the tip of my tongue.
*I'm in love with you. I have been for fifteen years.*
But what if I say it and he realizes he was wrong? What if the reality of me loving him back is too much, too fast, too real? What if this whole night has been some beautiful dream and saying the words out loud will shatter it?
What if I'm not enough?
