Head Over Feels

I thought we were on the right track. My heart beats faster, like I might be given the chance that I so desperately want. That I need. To have it lost in an instant based on gossip . . . I’m to blame. I’m the one who hurt her. It’s because of me that she would even believe that lie.

Then her eyes pin me to the couch. “Rad, you talk a good talk, but it was about walking the walk as well. You and I were always sitting on the same side of the table. We had nothing to protect from the other. We were on the same team. Team us. But just when I thought we were really coming together, you turned against me. You just didn’t give me the courtesy of knowing your feelings had changed.”

“We were on the same team. We are. We still are, Tealey.”

“I believe you. I really do. I think you’re hardwired to work in such a way that you’d rather hide your heart than put it on the line to be hurt. And I think that’s why you did this, whether you’re conscious of it or not.” She stands, leaving me so much to digest.

But the flaw in her argument . . . I rub the bridge of my nose, realizing I do treat us like we’re on different sides of a case.

She leans her hip against the kitchen bar with her arms crossed over her chest. Her anger begins to dissipate, but the distrust is still on display in her pursed lips. I slow the questions racing through my head. This isn’t a cross-examination. This is the woman I want to be with, the one I want to marry.

I stand, coming around the couch and resting on the back of it. We have enough separating us that I don’t want distance to add to it.

“I fucked up,” I say. “I’m sorry for that. You’re right. I had your devotion and lost your trust. My attention was divided when you gave me all of yours. But I need you to know the truth because somewhere along the grapevine, someone else lied to you.”

Her arms tighten their hold around her, making herself smaller. Fuck. Have I done that? If given the chance, I’ll make sure she always knows how much she means to me and that I value her.

“Who lied?” she asks. “About what?”

“You may think I know nothing about feelings, especially love, but hear me out. I would never, not ever sacrifice the chance to ask for your hand in marriage for a ploy to gain financial wealth.”

Her blinks have appeared measured until now, when they become erratic. “I’m not following.”

“When I ask you to marry me, that will be the only time I ever ask anybody.”

She begins to pace in front of me, staring at the floor, but occasionally glancing at me. She stops and stares me directly in the eyes. “Are you saying you didn’t ask Marlow to marry you?”

“The only woman I’d ever ask that of is you.”

I hear her gulp, and then her bottom lip wobbles. “You want to marry me?” Her hands flail in front of her face. “One day?”

I’ve never felt more certain about anything than knowing I want her in my life forever. “I’m going to marry you one day, Tealey. If you let me, we can work through the misinformation and get to the truth. But I want you to know that whoever told you that Marlow and I were engaged probably has an ulterior motive. His name probably starts with Jean as well.”

Her eyes mist with tears. “He also said Americans have lost the art of romance.”

I hold my hand out, palm up for a long couple of seconds. Finally, when she slips her hand in mine, I kiss it. “Give me a second chance to love you, Tealey Bell, and I’ll spend the rest of my life proving that fucker wrong.”

The tears she’s been holding back break the dam and stream down her beautiful face. I close the gap and wrap my arms around my girl instead.

“Tealey?”

“Yeah?”

I lean back just enough to see her. Tilting her chin up to look into her eyes, I say, “I love you. I love you so much.”

Tears fall from her eyes again. “I love you,” she says. “And I’m sorry for not trusting you.” She lifts on her feet to kiss me again. Our lips are together, and our souls are in sync.

When she hugs me, I realize how much I missed not just her presence and soul that fills mine with life, but her touch, her body against mine, and this connection.

It’s been an intense sixteen hours. I wouldn’t want to repeat that again.

Stepping back, she grins. “I’m glad we got everything out on the table.” The belt of her robe loosens, and the ends fall apart. As if I couldn’t have planned it better, I strip off the hoodie I had to buy to hide my shirt. Now seems like the right time to reveal it.