Page 86 of Miss Behaved
“I know.”
Her big brown eyes stare at me.
I love those big brown eyes.
Maybe it wasn’t that this couldn’t be said over the phone or through text. Maybe the gravitational pull in my stomach wouldn’t let me. I had to see her, feel her, smell her. There was no way I was going to be able to stay away from this woman for one more minute.
“I love you.” It slips out before I can stop it.
I’ve thought it a million times, but I never let it break loose. I’ve never spoken those three words to a woman or let myself admit it was possible. But in this moment, that’s all there is to say.
I’m terrified she’s going to say we need to slow down, or this is goodbye, or that she’s already moving on. Her eyes fall to my lips then look back into my eyes, and I can almost see the wheels turning.
“You—”
“I love you,” I tell her again, dragging the letters through the cement and letting them dry between us. Waiting for her to get a good look and decide.
Is she ready?
Can we be more?
Am I worth it?
Her head is nodding, and with each one her smile ticks a little higher, her eyes shine a little brighter.
“You do?”
I nod. “I do.”
A wide smile finally breaks loose. “I love you too,” she says, quickly and in one breath. Like the words were on the tip of her tongue, but it took her whole body to release them.
And for the first time it feels like we’re done hiding. That the truth is out there between us, and there’s no backing away.
“Good.”
Her face looks puzzled. “Good?”
“I have to admit something,” I say, standing up and sending the swing into motion. Her hair waves with the breeze. Grabbing onto the chains that hang from either side, I slow it to a stop with my hands. “I was here yesterday before you got here.”
“Where? Here?” She looks around with that cute confused face she gets.
“Yes, here.”
“Why?”
“To see your parents.”
Monica freezes, her hands slapping down on the seat of the swing like she’s holding on for dear life. Her notebook falls from her lap and tumbles onto the porch, so I kneel down to get it.
“Why?” She sounds scared of her own question.
Setting the notebook on the seat beside her, I stay where I am, looking up at her. I take in the curiosity in her eyes and the racing of her breath.
“Because.” I reach into my pocket and dig out what I’m looking for.
I can barely hear what I’m saying over the sound of my own beating heart pounding between my temples as I pull out a small velvet box.
Her hands fly up to cover her mouth, and tears start pooling in her eyes. She’s shaking her head, and I pray it’s not her saying no to me already.
