Page 136 of Love Unwritten
“I understand why you can’t.” I didn’t know all the details about his divorce before, but now that I do… No wonder he never wants to get married again. I’m not sure if I could either.
He shakes his head. “That’s not what I mean.”
“Oh.”
His inhale is a long, drawn-out one that makes my heart stutter. “I spoke to Nico today and realized that he and I have a certain thing in common.”
“What?”
“We both struggle to let people get close.”
A small laugh escapes me. “Oh, tell me about it. Do you remember how much hell Nico gave me during his first month of music lessons?” I considered pawning him off to another tutor, but then Burt reminded me of the little terror I was when I first started at The Broken Chord, so I persevered.
Eventually, Nico opened up just like I had hoped, and his love has been a gift ever since.
Rafael’s gaze locks onto mine. “Yeah, which reminded me that if my son learned to let you in, then so can I.”
“You don’t have to.”
“I don’t, but I want to.” He gives my thigh a squeeze that goes straight to my heart, and it has nothing to do with my fear of him noticing the scars hidden underneath my sleep pants. “Just like I want to forgive you for keeping Nico’s worsening vision a secret.”
The pressure valve in my chest opens. “Thank you.”
His head drops back with a sigh as he leans against the couch. “Talking about this…it feels better than I thought.”
“People say the truth will set you free for a reason.”
His laugh is soft yet so damn strong at the same time. My eyes dart toward his lips. The slipup lasts only a second, but Rafael seems to catch it before his mouth pulls into the cockiest smirk to ever exist.
I want to kiss it right off his stupid face.
“You’ve got a terrible poker face,” he says.
I tap my temple. “Maybe that’s what I want you to think.”
“So you don’t want to kiss me right now?”
Well, shit.
CHAPTER THIRTY-EIGHT
Ellie
I blink a few times. “Would it matter if I did?”
“Maybe.”
“Why? It’s not like you’d do anything about it.”
The imaginary crowd in my head goes wild.
Rafael’s fingers flex before forming a fist, and I, the hopeful-slash-hopeless romantic, believe it’s because of me.
“We shouldn’t,” he states carefully.
I nod. “Nope.”
His eyes drop to my mouth. “It’s a bad idea.”