He set me down and placed both hands on my shoulders. “That is nothing compared to losing you.”
Heat flushed through me.
But no. If this was that serious—if the NFL and Kravenberg, Inc. were really taking a stand against me—this could destroy him. He had worked so hard to get where he was. He loved his teammates.
I wouldn’t tear that down. I wouldn’t.
Yet how could I keep him away?
The idea dawned slow and horrible and certain.
“And what about me?” I made sure to keep my gaze unwaveringly on his. “What will it do to my journalistic career if it looks like I’m sleeping around in order to get information?”
He drew back as though stung. “We’re dating.”
“We know that. Not everyone else will. I won’t risk my career, my reputation, for you. We have to be apart.”
He wrapped my hand in his. “I don’t believe you.”
I swallowed and made certain to keep my gaze on his. I refused to blink. “It’s the best for both of us. It saves both of our jobs.”
He snorted. “Do you love me?”
I swallowed and turned away so I didn’t have to look into his face, that face that drew the truth out of me no matter what.
“Go on, Tammy. Answer the goddamn question.”
He was going to make me start crying. My throat already felt constrained and my heart heavy. “Why are you making me say it? What good does this do other than making us miserable?”
He stepped in front of me, placing his hands on my arms and drawing me closer. “Do. You. Love. Me?”
My gaze, locked over his shoulder, was finally drawn to his bright, insistent gaze. “Yes, dammit!”
He was implacable. “And I love you.”
Two tears leaked out and I couldn’t manage to speak for a solid ten seconds. “But your career...” I remembered the excuse of my own reputation. “And mine...”
He brushed a strand of curls behind my ear. “Bull. Tell me you didn’t say you were worried about your career in order to save my own.”
Holy hell. My eyes widened. “Abe...”
“You’re not the only one here who can read the other. You love me and you think we should be separated in order to save my career. Fine. We can consider being quiet as we figure it out. But we’re still in a relationship, Tamar Rosenfeld, and we will be until you look me in the eye and say you no longer love me.”
“Or until you no longer love me,” I whispered.
“That,” he said firmly, “is never going to happen.”
I tilted my head.
He smiled with absolute tenderness and shook his. “You don’t get it, do you?”
I was lost. “Get what?”
He hooked one arm around my waist and drew me toward him. “Tamar.” He leaned his forehead against mine and smiled. His other hand cupped the back of my neck. “Tamar, you were always the girl I wanted to marry.”
I gaped at him.
He shrugged, completely at peace with himself now that he’d put this out there. “It’s true.”