They’re the same words she used last night, but her tone is different. Where she was vulnerable then, now she’s erected ramparts and installed a moat filled with crocodiles. But I’m willing to swim past predators and scale castle walls for a chance with her.
“I do understand,” I say. “And I should have listened last night. And I should have listened to your podcast before the party. And I should have listened at the café yesterday when you said you wanted to talk.”
Her expression softens. “Thank you for saying that but . . .” You’re missing the point.
It’s as clear as if she’d said it out loud.
I do get it now. I’m still dancing around the truth—the terrifying and wonderful truth.
“I love you, Bellamy,” I blurt it out, and it hurts to say.
But it also feels incredible.
She sounds wildly doubtful. “You do?”
“I do. I love you. I want to be yours,” I say, laying it out there for her, hoping she believes me.
She shifts back in her seat, giving herself space to take a good look at me. “That’s not what you said last night. In fact, you said the opposite.”
“I was wrong. I was stupid.”
The silence hangs heavily between us for a beat before she speaks. “Last night you seemed pretty sure that I came to your parties to meet men. As if I’d done something wrong when you asked me to attend for literally that reason. I wasn’t interested in any of those guys, but they came over to talk to me, and I was being polite to your guests at your party. Then you acted like you were the honorable one to ignore your dating app. But I went to the party for you, and what you said hurt so much . . . because you knew I wanted to talk to you about the bet and about us.”
Us. There isn’t even an us to talk about because of me. “You did say that, and I didn’t deal with it well,” I say, regret rushing through me like a rocket.
“I’d been trying to tell you for days how I felt about you. I got on air and told you, for all intents and purposes.”
She fires truth bombs left and right, and I do my best to catch them and defuse them. “I wish I could go back in time and do last night all over again.”
But is it too late to tell her the truth?
“Me too,” she says, her voice wobbly, but she seems to swallow down her pain. “Because when I told you how I felt last night, you could barely conceive that I was talking about you.” A deep breath seems to fuel her. “So how do I know if you truly want to be mine? How do I know you’re ready for whatever is beyond an understanding?”
I lean across the table, wishing I could take her hands in mine, implore her with my touch. “I do. I swear. Can we try again?”
Her lips part, but she says nothing. She glances down at the chocolates and taps the box with a red polished nail. When she looks up again, a sliver of a smile comes my way. “I don’t know, but I like these chocolates and as I eat them, I’ll think about it.”
She stands, takes the box, and leaves.
If I was confused last night, I’m not anymore.
Everything’s crystal clear. What’s especially clear is how hard it’ll be to convince her I’m worth all this trouble.
It’s going to take so much more than a box of chocolates.
But I am here for it.
44
The Great Convincing
From the Email Correspondence of Bellamy Hart and Easton Ford
* * *
Dear Bellamy,
* * *
Thank you for meeting me yesterday. I meant everything I said. I am in love with you. And I want to convince you that I’m ready.
* * *
So, consider yourself warned that it’s about to begin. I plan to prove myself to the flapper who walked into my life, since I can’t stand the thought that at the next costume party you might be the one who got away.
* * *
Easton
Dear Easton,
* * *
So, what you’re saying is you’re embarking on The Great Convincing?
* * *
Bellamy
Dear Bellamy,
* * *
Yes. It’s the era that comes after An Understanding. Or, more precisely, An Understanding with Sleepovers. Wait. Nope. It comes after An Understanding with Sleepovers Botched by The Jackass Cowboy.
* * *
For The Great Convincing, you’ll need chocolate (for sustenance), plus an eraser, a notebook, and of course, a pen.
* * *
I hope you liked the gifts.
* * *
Easton
Dear Easton,
* * *
I like the sentiment, and the gifts. I received them this morning, as a matter of fact. An eraser because you wish you could erase the other night. A pen to write a new beginning.
* * *
Very clever, very you.