Your One True Love (The Bennett Family 8)

“You should be proud of what you built. And your family is proud too. If you don’t believe me, just ask them.”

“You’re so beautiful, sitting here, listening to me.” He takes my hands to his lips, kisses my knuckles. He’s never showed me this side of him before, never let me see him vulnerable and emotional. “I’m so happy I have you.”

“I’m happy to be here, Dan.”

He’s still in brooding mode, though. Still vulnerable and unhappy. I bite the inside of my cheek, pondering what to say next. Reassuring him it’s all good won’t help. Sometimes we don’t need to hear “everything will be okay.” We already know that, but we still feel like we could have done better, like we’re not enough. The feeling is all too familiar for me, and while I avoid talking about it, maybe sharing this will help him—at least make him understand it’s normal to feel like this from time to time. Not pleasant, but normal.

“I have these moments too,” I say softly. “When I don’t feel like I’m enough.”

Daniel straightens up, fixing me with his gaze.

“When Mom boasted to everyone that my brother is a neurosurgeon, told me I could have done better than being an elementary school teacher.” This was the easy part to

confess. Swallowing, I trace a random pattern on his chest with my forefinger. “Then, after the miscarriage and the surgery, the few times I told men I couldn’t have kids, it didn’t go well at all. They kind of made me feel like I’m not woman enough.”

The muscles in his arms and shoulders tense. He pulls me closer until I’m lying on top of him. “That’s why you were afraid of telling me.”

“Yeah.”

“Is being around kids hard for you? At school or with my family?”

“Not at all. I’ve always loved kids. After the diagnosis, I immediately started thinking about adoption, and it felt right. But not everyone thinks this way.”

“They were not men enough for you. No big loss for you.”

“You’ve got a knack for turning this around to make me look like a prize.”

“You are a prize. You’re a smart, funny, and loving woman. You’re everything. My everything.”

I curl in his arms like a kitten, soaking in his words. His admission beckons me to counter with one of my own, to open up.

“You’re my everything too, Dan. You’re the best thing that happened to me. The best.”

This right here—each of us baring our souls to each other, sharing our fears—feels more intimate than anything we’ve done before. We never laid ourselves bare this way the first time. Maybe because at that age we didn’t have many skeletons, or maybe we just weren’t ready to trust the other with the less-than-perfect stuff.

“Even when I’m a mess?” he asks.

I’m flat against his chest, so I can’t see his expression, but I spy the way his hand tightens on the edge of the tub. My answer is important to him. I’d argue he’s far from being a mess, but it’s not what he needs.

“Even then. Especially then. You’re human. My human. Here’s a little secret. I know you’re not perfect. No one is.”

“Damn, all that hard work and I still can’t fool you into thinking I’m perfect.”

“Nope. The jig is up, I’m afraid. But I’ll be here no matter what, ready to listen to you, with a bath and anything else you need. I promise.”

“I don’t need the bath, or anything else. I just need you.” He threads his fingers through my hair, his breath caressing the side of my head. “Listening without judging, trusting me.”

I nibble at the base of his neck, which might possibly lead to a hickey, but I need to kiss him, touch him. I need to feel closer to him. No clue if he’s ready for sexy time again, though.

“Lying naked on top of me is also a big bonus,” he adds in a naughty whisper. I giggle against his neck, happy we can find the light and humor in any situation. The joke’s on me, it appears. He’s always ready for sexy time. Men.

“I knew it. It all comes down to sex. Watch it, or I will treat you to my vanilla bath bomb.”

He slips one hand between us, teasing a nipple. “They’re awake already.”

“Keep going like that and I’ll upgrade to a cherry and honey bath bomb. You’ll smell like dessert for a week.”

Chapter Twenty-Four