She’d carried it for so long, the belief that she’d hurt someone badly.
Knowing that it wasn’t the case should have given her instant relief, shouldn’t it?
“I’m angry.”
“Good. Anger is better than guilt.”
She was silent for a long minute. Then she stood up and turned to look at him.
“I’m glad you showed me this, but none of this changes the fact that I don’t want you to fall in love with me. I care about you, Daniel. I don’t want you to be hurt.”
“I know you care about me. That’s why I’m sharing the way I feel about you.”
“I care about you as a friend. A lover. I don’t want anything to change.”
Everything had already changed.
He knew it. She knew it.
It was the reason she was panicking.
“This isn’t about Rupert.” He stood up, too, refusing to allow her to back away. “It isn’t about any of the other men you dated. It isn’t even about your mother. It’s about you.”
“Me?”
“Yes. You’ve always been made to feel you’re not enough. Your mother made you feel that way, and so did Rupert. Two people who supposedly loved you forced you to question yourself, personally and professionally. And it has left you worried you’ll never be enough for someone. But you’re enough for me, Molly.” He framed her face with his hands, forcing her to look at him. “You’re enough for me. Everything you are, the person you are—” he lowered his forehead to hers, holding her gaze “—you’re more than enough. You’re everything.”
She couldn’t breathe. She couldn’t speak.
Her chest was full. Terror, excitement, exhilaration, despair.
She needed to think, but there was no chance to think with his eyes on hers and his hands in her hair.
“I love you.” He said it again, softly this time. “And I think you love me.”
The words roused her from her trance.
“No.” She pulled away from him, stepping backward so fast she nearly stepped on Valentine’s paw. “Yes, we’ve had fun, but part of the reason for that fun was that neither of us was in love. For the first time in my life I wasn’t even trying to fall in love. There was no pressure. No expectation. It’s the most relaxed I’ve ever been, the most myself I’ve been. I’ve told you everything about me, shared all of me.” She felt a flash of panic as she met his steady gaze and realized how that probably sounded. All right, so she’d been relaxed and herself, but that didn’t make it love, did it? So why was he still looking at her, as if he was waiting for her to have a lightbulb moment? “I don’t mean all of me, obviously. My heart is still exactly how it was before I met you. I don’t know what I’m saying because you’re looking at me in that way and—”
“What way? How am I looking at you?”
He was looking at her with kindness, amusement, patience and a million other things she didn’t expect to see in the face of a man she’d rejected.
“You know how! As if you’re waiting for me to say something I’m never going to be able to say! I’m so, so sorry to hurt you but I’m definitely not in love. Not in love. No. Never. It isn’t something that happens to me and believe me, I should know because I’ve tried—” She broke off as he covered her lips with his fingers and nodded.
“All right. I get it.” He let his hand drop, but she could still feel the pressure of his fingertips against her mouth.
All right? That was all he was going to say? No argument or recriminations? No emotional blackmail? Perhaps he didn’t believe her. “You need evidence?” She scrabbled around for something that might convince him. “I don’t look at you with starry eyes and talk to you in a baby voice.”
The corners of his mouth twitched. “Good. I’m not big on baby voices.”
“My appetite is fine. At no point has being with you ever put me off my food.”
“That’s good, too.” There was a tenderness in his voice that almost crushed her.
“I don’t even dream about you.” That wasn’t quite true, but it had been just a couple of times so those didn’t count.
He was silent for a moment and then he slowly reached for his jacket.