Maybe Not
Page 36
I’m not good at consoling, so I’m not sure what I can say to make her feel any better. Instead, I just climb onto the bed and scoot in behind her. I wrap my arm over her and grab her hand.
We lie like this for several minutes, and I let her get all her tears out. When it doesn’t sound like she’s crying anymore, I press a kiss into her hair.
“He would have been a horrible father, Bridgette.”
She nods. “I know. I just . . .” She sucks in a rush of air. “I like it here. I feel like all of you accept me for who I am, and that’s never happened before. And now that Brennan knows I’m not his sister, what happens now? Do I just leave?”
I squeeze her tighter, hating that she even thinks that’s an option. “Over my and Brody’s dead bodies. No way am I letting you go anywhere.”
She laughs and wipes at her eyes. “You guys don’t have to be nice to me out of pity.”
I roll her onto her back and shake my head in confusion. “Pity? This isn’t pity, Bridgette. I mean, yeah, I feel bad for you. Yeah, it might have been cool if you were their sister. But it doesn’t change anything. The only thing those test results would have changed is that you’d go from not knowing who your real father is to having one of the worst fathers in the world.” I kiss her on the forehead. “I don’t care whose sister you are, I love you the same.”
Her eyes widen, and I can feel her body stiffen in my arms. I didn’t say I was falling in love this time.
I just told her I loved her. Like, actively. And yes, those three words could probably make her flip out more than any other three words in the English language, but I can’t take it back. I won’t take it back. I love her, and I’ve loved her for months now and I’m tired of being too scared of her reaction to say it.
She begins to shake her head. “Warren . . .”
“I know,” I interject. “I said it. Get over it. I love you, Bridgette.”
Her expression is void of any emotion right now. She’s absorbing it. She’s waiting to see how those words make her feel, because I’m not sure if she’s ever heard them before.
Her jaw grows tense, and she places her hands against my chest. “You’re a liar,” she snaps, attempting to roll out from under me.
Here we go again.
I pull her back to the mattress while she attempts to squirm away. “You’re exhausting, you know that?” I roll her onto her back and she begins to nod, frantically.
“That’s right, Warren. I’m exhausting. I’m mean. I always see the glass half empty, and if you think telling me you love me will make me nicer and less exhausting, you’re wrong. You can’t change me. Everyone wants to change me, but I am who I am, and if you think me telling you that I love you, too, will make me shit out unicorns and rainbows, you’re wrong. I hate unicorns and rainbows.”
I drop my face to her neck and I start to laugh. “Oh, my God, I can’t believe you’re mine.” I kiss her on the cheek, and then I kiss her on the forehead, and then her nose and her chin and her other cheek. I look back at her eyes full of confusion.
“I don’t want you to change, Bridgette. I’m not in love with who you could be, or who you used to be, or who the world says you should be. I’m in love with you. Right now. Just like this.”
She’s still guarded and defensive, so I pull her closer to me and wrap my arms around her, hugging her tightly. “Stop,” I whisper in her ear. “Stop telling yourself that you aren’t lovable, because it’s pissing me off. I don’t care if you aren’t ready to admit how you really feel about me yet, but don’t you dare dismiss how I feel about you. Because I love you.” I kiss her on the side of the head, and I say it again. It feels so good to finally say it. “I love you, Bridgette.”
She pulls away just enough for me to see her face. Her eyes are rimmed with tears.
“Bridgette, I love you,” I say again, this time looking her straight in the eyes. I can feel her struggling internally. Part of her wants to enjoy this moment, and part of her is trying to hold up that last wall that still stands between us.
“I love you,” I whisper again.
One of the tears escapes from her eyes, and I’m afraid she’s about to break and push me away like she always does. I press my lips against hers, and I inhale deeply. I touch her cheek and wipe away her tear with my thumb.
“You’re the most genuine person I know, Bridgette. So whether you think you deserve love or not, it doesn’t matter, because I can’t help it. I fell in love with you, and I’m not sorry for it.”
We lie like this for several minutes, and I let her get all her tears out. When it doesn’t sound like she’s crying anymore, I press a kiss into her hair.
“He would have been a horrible father, Bridgette.”
She nods. “I know. I just . . .” She sucks in a rush of air. “I like it here. I feel like all of you accept me for who I am, and that’s never happened before. And now that Brennan knows I’m not his sister, what happens now? Do I just leave?”
I squeeze her tighter, hating that she even thinks that’s an option. “Over my and Brody’s dead bodies. No way am I letting you go anywhere.”
She laughs and wipes at her eyes. “You guys don’t have to be nice to me out of pity.”
I roll her onto her back and shake my head in confusion. “Pity? This isn’t pity, Bridgette. I mean, yeah, I feel bad for you. Yeah, it might have been cool if you were their sister. But it doesn’t change anything. The only thing those test results would have changed is that you’d go from not knowing who your real father is to having one of the worst fathers in the world.” I kiss her on the forehead. “I don’t care whose sister you are, I love you the same.”
Her eyes widen, and I can feel her body stiffen in my arms. I didn’t say I was falling in love this time.
I just told her I loved her. Like, actively. And yes, those three words could probably make her flip out more than any other three words in the English language, but I can’t take it back. I won’t take it back. I love her, and I’ve loved her for months now and I’m tired of being too scared of her reaction to say it.
She begins to shake her head. “Warren . . .”
“I know,” I interject. “I said it. Get over it. I love you, Bridgette.”
Her expression is void of any emotion right now. She’s absorbing it. She’s waiting to see how those words make her feel, because I’m not sure if she’s ever heard them before.
Her jaw grows tense, and she places her hands against my chest. “You’re a liar,” she snaps, attempting to roll out from under me.
Here we go again.
I pull her back to the mattress while she attempts to squirm away. “You’re exhausting, you know that?” I roll her onto her back and she begins to nod, frantically.
“That’s right, Warren. I’m exhausting. I’m mean. I always see the glass half empty, and if you think telling me you love me will make me nicer and less exhausting, you’re wrong. You can’t change me. Everyone wants to change me, but I am who I am, and if you think me telling you that I love you, too, will make me shit out unicorns and rainbows, you’re wrong. I hate unicorns and rainbows.”
I drop my face to her neck and I start to laugh. “Oh, my God, I can’t believe you’re mine.” I kiss her on the cheek, and then I kiss her on the forehead, and then her nose and her chin and her other cheek. I look back at her eyes full of confusion.
“I don’t want you to change, Bridgette. I’m not in love with who you could be, or who you used to be, or who the world says you should be. I’m in love with you. Right now. Just like this.”
She’s still guarded and defensive, so I pull her closer to me and wrap my arms around her, hugging her tightly. “Stop,” I whisper in her ear. “Stop telling yourself that you aren’t lovable, because it’s pissing me off. I don’t care if you aren’t ready to admit how you really feel about me yet, but don’t you dare dismiss how I feel about you. Because I love you.” I kiss her on the side of the head, and I say it again. It feels so good to finally say it. “I love you, Bridgette.”
She pulls away just enough for me to see her face. Her eyes are rimmed with tears.
“Bridgette, I love you,” I say again, this time looking her straight in the eyes. I can feel her struggling internally. Part of her wants to enjoy this moment, and part of her is trying to hold up that last wall that still stands between us.
“I love you,” I whisper again.
One of the tears escapes from her eyes, and I’m afraid she’s about to break and push me away like she always does. I press my lips against hers, and I inhale deeply. I touch her cheek and wipe away her tear with my thumb.
“You’re the most genuine person I know, Bridgette. So whether you think you deserve love or not, it doesn’t matter, because I can’t help it. I fell in love with you, and I’m not sorry for it.”
