“As your responsibility? Because that kind of sucks to think about, Theo. I don’t want to be treated like some ward—”
“Stop.” Shifting, I moved the blanket away from her and readjusted myself, so my body was fully turned toward hers. “I was more than willing to have this conversation over dinner, but now works too.”
I refused to let her say anything before I got out what I had to say first. It was clear she wanted to interject, but after our conversation that morning, I wasn’t about to let her imagination run wild over what was going on here.
“When I told you that I didn’t want to go back to what we were, I meant it. It’s impossible to be who we were when you were just little Della and I was only your dad’s friend. You were never my responsibility even if I wanted to believe you were. When you got older, when you started walking and talking with a newfound sass that made people laugh and turn their heads, I wished you were only that. Honest to God, Della, I wish sometimes I looked at you like I did then. As this adorable little girl who looked at the world with such innocence and hope. That meant that I didn’t fail you and your family by letting corruption sink in.
“And before you tell me I wouldn’t have been able to stop it from happening, I know. I’ve thought about it countless times and drove myself fucking crazy. You know what I realized after drinking myself into a fucking stupor over it?”
Slowly, she shook her head.
I took her hand and draped it on my thigh, squeezing it. Maybe a little too tightly, a little too aggressively, but she didn’t pull away. “You wouldn’t have been the person you are today if it hadn’t been for everyone else’s choices. I’m not saying I don’t wish your father would have taken a different path, or that I wouldn’t go back in time and change anything if I could. But you wouldn’t be the amazing woman sitting here beside me if he hadn’t fucked up.” Ignoring her flinch over the blunt statement, I weaved our fingers together. “I don’t how many times you need me to tell you that you’re beautiful, inspiring, and the exact kind of woman I need to ground me, for you to understand, but I’ll tell you over and over again until you get it.
“The truth of the matter is you don’t need me to. You don’t need me to tell you that you’re anything because you already know it. You wouldn’t have gone back to school, painted those paintings, or let your friend convince you to dance if you didn’t know you were a strong woman, worthy of the kind of love I’m going to give you for a long fucking time. Not because I’m obligated to, but because I wouldn’t know what else to do with myself if I couldn’t.”
I didn’t miss the way her lips parted, how that breathy little exhale escaped them, or how her fingers gripped mine like she couldn’t quite believe what I’d said.
I swallowed. “We’re going to have bad days, Della. The both of us. It’s not only you, sweetheart. We’ll have to figure out how to navigate them together.”
She blinked. “Because…”
I raised her hand to my lips and pressed a kiss against her warm skin. “I love you, Della. Plain and simple.” Her eyes closed when I pressed another kiss against her ring finger, making a point. “Think you can stick with me while we figure this out? It’s not going to be easy. There’s a lot between us that people may or may not understand. I don’t want them to dictate what we do, to make their opinions part of the relationship I want to explore with you.”
Every day since the first time Anthony and Elizabeth asked me to watch Della, I’d been wrapped around her finger. Every day was a new adventure—something to learn. Her quirks, the things she hated, the things she liked. When she asked me to dance with her, I danced. When she asked me to hang up her pictures, I hung them up. Shit, how many hours of YouTube tutorials did I watch to learn how to braid hair because she wanted me to braid hers? There was nothing I wasn’t willing to do to keep a smile on her face, and that hadn’t changed. If anything, the need to make her happy