Page 70 of The Jellybean Dilemma

His shoulders slumped, and he sighed. “I’m not good with big speeches.” The smile he gave me was tight. “According to Carrie, it was my biggest fault.”

He’d been, what, nineteen when they broke up? But I needed a concrete admission from those lips. Maybe we could work up to it. “Did you date anyone else after her?”

“Not seriously.” He turned the lanyard end over end. “I was a mess when I met you, but you helped me even then, Rhonda. Having someone to look out for took the focus off myself and my problems.”

He paused, glancing at the painting. “It killed me when no one showed up for your art show.” The words were strained, his voice low and taut.

I felt like we were closing in on what I needed to hear. “I can’t believe you still have that awful thing. And hung it on your wall, no less.” My eighteen-year-old self would have died to know that twenty-four-year-old Greg had kept the painting. Cherished it even.

“It’s not awful. It’s a piece of you, and no part of you is awful.” He touched my cheek, a featherlight brush of his knuckle that sent a thrill coursing through me. “Watching you at the art show…Rhonda, that was when my eyes were finally opened to the beautiful woman you’d become. It was all I could do not to pull you in my arms, to comfort you, to hold you…” His voice dropped. “To kiss you.”

His throat bobbed as he swallowed. “I set some hard boundaries for myself right then, especially since you were my employer’s daughter.”

Shock rippled through me. He’d seen me, even then.

“The night of the gala, when you asked me how you looked…then you kissed me—” The words came out rushed, sounding desperate and wistful. “I was so surprised, so entrenched in the little fence I’d set up for myself that I couldn’t see past it. And later, you made me see. In the back seat of the limo.”

His voice grew husky, deeper. “I didn’t even know you were with anyone else at first. All I could see was you. By the time I realized it, it was too late.” He swallowed, ducking his head. “I didn’t even know what to feel that night. Hurt, anger, embarrassment.”

He paused for a moment, then the words poured out of him, not even giving me time to process. “So, I left. I tried to forget you. Tried to date other girls and find someone else. But you ruined me, Rhonda.” Raw emotion filled his voice as he said, “You’re like the sun, bright and beautiful, but also blinding. Every other woman seems washed out and pale in comparison.”

“It’s taken me forever to get here, to figure out how to say anything to you. My Jellybean dilemma,” he whispered in one husky breath. “I love you, Rhonda Elgin.”

My head spun, hearing those words. There wasn’t enough oxygen in the room to help my brain comprehend them. I felt dizzy and completely unmoored, as if I was back in that car, spinning end over end.

“Rhonda?”

I allowed every ounce of my overwhelming happiness to spill out into my smile. “And you don’t think you’re any good at making speeches.” I flung my arms around him. His words flowed through me, like a shaft of sunlight thawing the last bit of ice in my soul. We clung to each other for what felt like forever before I pulled back. I kept hold of his hand, though, that contact a vital part of me right now.

It was my turn. I already knew he loved me, but I wanted to tell him my side. He deserved that much, at least.

I smiled up at him. “You’ve always been important to me. I could depend on you like no one else. You showed up.” I squeezed his hand, basking in the warmth radiating through me. “You always made me feel seen. Whether it was jellybeans or dance recitals or art shows, I’m so grateful you were there, Greg. I’m so glad I had you as a friend.”

I glanced once more at the painting. “The art show was when my feelings shifted.”

He grinned, moving closer so our thighs touched.

“The moment you showed up, I wanted to barrel over and throw myself into your arms. I couldn’t even speak when you came over.” I squeezed his hand. “I tried that whole summer to get you to notice me, but you never did. I thought kissing you would show you my true feelings.”

Chagrin washed through me. “I’m sorry, Greg. I know I took you by surprise, and I know I went about it the wrong way.” I sighed. “Not to mention the whole thing in the limo.”

I stared at the floor as I thought about the days after the gala. “Then you left.” It hurt just to say the words, but I went on, forcing them out. “If I couldn’t have you, my choice didn’t matter. Kevin was predictable, easily manipulated, and he didn’t care what I did as long as it didn’t take away from his fun. We would have gotten married then led two separate lives, a power couple in name only.”

Greg let go of my hand, putting his arm around me and pulling me to him.

I nuzzled his chest, grateful for the comfort. “But when I saw what Avery and Derek had, it reminded me what I was missing out on. Then you started showing up everywhere. At Liam’s, when we played darts and pool. At my house when you brought Avery’s clothes and stood up to Kevin. Then you drove me home from the gala.”

His deep chuckle rumbled through me. “Another gala.” He tugged me even closer, and I happily pressed into him.

“Thank you for seeing me,” I said, quietly as I rested in his embrace. “And for being there when no one else was. I love you, too, Greg Peterson.” The words felt right, hanging between us. All our time apart, all our rough patches and misunderstandings, had led us here to this moment. I did love him, more than I ever thought possible.

“Rhonda.” My name was part growl, part plea as Greg bent toward me.

I instinctively moved to meet him, twisting so our torsos melded together. Our mouths collided, hungry, passionate, desperate to solidify the claims of love we’d just staked.

He pulled back, abruptly. “Wait, you’re in no shape to—”

“Greg,” I cut him off, “what did we say about making assumptions?”

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