He was right. So right.
I nodded yet again and whispered, “I’ll try.”
His thumb swept my cheek and his voice was lower, deeper when he went on, still gentle. “I do now understand that it’s difficult for you to speak of these things. So in return, I will try to be more patient.”
God.
God.
He was beautiful, so, so beautiful.
In more ways than one.
I felt tears again sting my eyes.
“I’m sorry I screwed things up.” I was still whispering. “I was just…I’m just—”
“Cease, dove, I know what you were.”
I pulled in a breath and forged on.
“Well, since I’m explaining things, you should also know that in my world, when something happens and there are children involved, like, you know, one of the parents,” I swallowed, “died or there’s a divorce or something, we go a lot more slowly when introducing a new, well…partner to the kids. I understand,” I continued quickly, “that you think differently and they’re your kids so it’s your decision to make. But it was strange to me. Very strange. When we argued, I was thinking of my need for time but I was also thinking that they should have time to get used to me, get to know me, before they had to see me at the dinner table every night. It was…well, I thought it would be kinder to them to allow them an adjustment period. I mean, I’m not a bitch or anything but, you know, for kids who for a long time have had their father all to themselves, introducing them to the woman in his life is a lot for them to take.”
“I have not introduced my children to another…” he paused, his mouth quirking, “partner, so in retrospect, I see this as wise.”
He saw this as wise.
Thank God.
I relaxed in his arms.
He slid his hand down to my neck and gave me a squeeze, saying, “We must learn to talk like this, Maddie.”
Again, he was so right.
And again, I nodded.
That tender look slid into his eyes before he bent his neck to touch his mouth to mine and, I swear, it was crazy, I knew it, but I had to fight back bursting into tears because I missed that look and his touch so…damned…much.
“I do not like to think of your father leaving you to that man when you approached him for aid,” he whispered and I pressed my lips together and inhaled through my nose in a continued effort to fight back the tears. “You will not find such disregard here, my dove. So I urge you, along with discovering yourself, to find a way to get used to that.”
I lifted my hands to the sides of his sweater, curling my fingers in to hold on and forced myself to nod while blinking away the tears that threatened to flood my eyes.
Yes. He was beautiful. In way more ways than one.
He slid his hand back up to my jaw so he could again sweep his thumb across my cheek and moved in to kiss my forehead.
Then he moved back, the pads of his fingers digging in gently, and announced, “Now, we go tell Christophe and Élan you journey with us to Brunskar.”
My stomach lurched but I said nothing.
Crisis averted, a new trauma right on its heels.
Such was my life.
Oh boy.
* * * * *