She was too moved by his desire to make a difference in the lives of children who had lost their families, or never had one to begin with.
Yes, there'd been moments where she fantasized what it would feel like to nurture life in her body. But that had never been what hurt her the most about not being able to have children.
And he'd removed the knife from the wound of her infertility by letting her know that while he wanted to build a family with her, how that family was built didn't depend on her biological abilities to reproduce.
"You're such an amazing man," she said with a catch in her voice.
Was it any surprise she loved him so much and so deeply?
"I am glad you think so because you are all that I want in a woman."
Did he have any idea what hearing that did to her?
In danger of melting into a puddle of emotional goo, Blythe girded herself for what else needed to be said.
"You said there were two things you had to tell me," he prompted into the silence.
She swallowed and nodded. After all the grief her inability to have a child had caused her, admitting what she needed to next still felt harder to do.
It made her vulnerable.
She locked gazes with him. "I love you."
He stared at her, like he could not parse what she had just said.
"I'm not sure when it happened. I've been drawn to you since the first time we met. No other man could compare to you, but you were younger," she babbled, filling in the silence between them. "I thought you needed time to date lots of women and get that out of your system."
"I am not wired for the playboy lifestyle," he said, sounding dazed.
"No, you really aren't. Despite the charm and smiles you used to get by when you were younger, underneath you're a really serious thinking guy."
"And you fell in love with that guy?" he asked.
"Yes. And well, I can't marry you if you expect me not to love you. Because I can't stop." The last year had taught her that.
"You can love me."
Inexplicable tears filled her eyes. "Good."
He was out of his chair and kneeling in front of her a breath later. "Do not cry, sweetheart. We love each other. That is a good thing."
"You love me?" she asked in shocked disbelief.
"How could you not know?" he asked, sounding less loverlike than angry. "I chased you like a lovesick calf from the beginning."
"No, it wasn't like that."
"It was exactly like that. I was a damned virgin the first time we made love because no other woman did it for me."
"You didn't make love like a virgin." He'd been a virgin?
"Thank you."
"Don't thank me! Why didn't you tell me?"
"Because you would have seen it as another reason to push me away."
He was right. When Blythe had still been hung up on their age difference, she would have had a meltdown if she'd realized she was his first and only lover.