Nya

There was a knock at my door, unexpected at this hour, and unlike before, I took the time to look through the peephole.

Patrick was on the other side of the door.

My heart soared, came crashing down.

I had wanted him to come for me, but what if he was here for reasons that had nothing at all to do with us, or what I thought of as us?

I tried to keep the possibility in the front of my mind, told myself not to get too hopeful, but one look at him and I knew what this was.

Knew that Patrick and I were over.

I gathered myself and let him in.

He entered, wearing another button-down shirt that was open at the neck. He looked even more handsome than he had the first time I’d seen him, but I knew that was because I knew him now, knew him inside and out.

Loved him with all my heart.

A heart that was breaking as I looked at him.

He seemed tentative as he stood in the living room, so different than he had anytime before when he’d been here. I wanted that Patrick back, the demanding one, even the frenzied one, but not the one who looked for all the world like he had no idea what to say to me.

I waited, wanting to speak but not daring risk it. I’d never told Patrick how I felt, and I couldn’t now. Didn’t know if I’d be able to pick up the pieces if I did and he rejected me.

The silence was strained, tense, but when he looked at me, his midnight eyes dark but shining with emotion, I could no longer stay still. I rushed to him and wrapped my arms around his broad shoulders, holding him as close as I could.

And he held me back, pulled me closer to him, his body again telling me things he seemed not to be able to with words.

He pulled away and looked down at me, his eyes shimmering.

“Nya, I don’t know how to do this,” he said, the hesitance uncommon for him.

“Do what?” I whispered, studying his face.

“Tell you what I’m feeling, deal with the fact that I’m feeling anything at all. I didn’t have good role models. My mother tried her best, but…”

“She passed away?” I asked.

“Not entirely,” he said.

It was an odd answer, one I didn’t know what to do with, but I didn’t probe further and instead looked at Patrick again.

He stared back at me, his eyes darkening more with each second that passed, the expression in them strong but also vulnerable.

“There are a thousand reasons, a million, why I shouldn’t be here, why you should never see me again,” he said.

“Patrick—”

He shook his head, and I went quiet again, watching him.

“I know this won’t work, but I couldn’t leave things like this. I love you, Nya,” he said.

I stood, too stunned to speak, watched Patrick as he waited, his expression stormy, his eyes intense.

Long seconds passed in silence and then Patrick shook his head. “Just go ahead and say it. Put me out of my misery,” he said.

I took a deep breath. “Your profession is not going to change, is it?”

He shook his head, confirming what I knew, what I had known since the instant I had met him.

“Can you promise me that nothing else will happen? That you will come home to me every day?”

“I will protect you. I would die for you,” he said with such vehemence, it almost took me aback. “But I can’t make that promise.”

If it was possible, I fell even more in love with him then. It would’ve been so easy to give me the words I wanted, but he didn’t. He told me the truth, just like I knew he always would.

“I spent my whole life running from this, swore to myself I would never be in a position where I would have to wonder,” I said.

I went quiet, looked at Patrick as he studied me, waiting.

“But I never bargained on you,” I said.

“What does that mean, Nya?” he asked, his voice rough-edged.

“It means that you can’t promise me anything but that you’ll love me. And that’s enough. Because I love you too, love you enough to face whatever might come.”