Page 75 of Leo and His Love Bunny

He thanks the crowd, and then informs them that there are cupcakes and to be sure to get some. The applause is deafening, as I slip out the back.

Matt sees me, waves, and he must have been ready to leave the second he saw me coming because he slips out without talking to me at all.

Which is just as well with me. I don’t want to talk to anybody right now anyway. But I paste on a smile, and get ready to greet any people who seem like they’re interested in doing more than saying thank you for the cupcakes.

I am aware that Leo and I really need to have a talk. Like, I have a lot of questions and I would like to have them answered.

But I have to get through this first. My cheeks start to ache, and I know that I’m not doing a very good job of putting myself out there. That was the whole purpose of this, but I find myself struggling to talk about cupcakes and orders and the passion I have for my small shop, when everything inside me wants answers from Leo. Most importantly, why didn’t you tell me?

Am I making a bigger deal out of this than I should? Matt calmed me down last time, and I felt like what he said made sense. That Leo might not want to tell me, or might have reasons for keeping things to himself. But... I haven’t kept anything from him on purpose.

But, if the truth be told, therearethings about me that he doesn’t know, like the fact that I had a best friend from the time I started school until my sophomore year of high school. And that she died without me forgiving her for what she had done. I suppose that’s a pretty big thing, and it definitely shaped me, but it’s not something that I’ve discussed with him.

I didn’t tell him that I flunked out of karate, the only person in the history of Whisper Hollow to do so, according to my instructor. But, I just didn’t get it. I still don’t, but that is beside the point. I didn’t tell Leo about it.

There are other things he doesn’t know, like I picked up a used, still lit cigarette off of the ground at the county fair, put it to my lips and inhaled. Thinking about it now I get grossed out, but I did technically smoke once. Once was enough.

My mind keeps going over all the things that I could’ve told Leo and didn’t, like it is defending him.

Or maybe that is my heart.

By the time the last of the lingering crowd leaves, and all the cupcakes are gone, and I get packed up, I’m not upset anymore. I do want some answers, but I no longer feel like Leo has betrayed me in some way.

He helps me carry the empty containers out as he usually does, and soon we are settled in his car and on our way home.

I’m rolling things over in my mind when Leo says, “You’ve been quiet.”

“I guess I have a lot on my mind.”

“Makes me feel like you didn’t like my talk.”

“I loved it. There were several things that you said that made me see things in a way that I hadn’t before. It was inspiring and encouraging and challenging all at the same time. You have a gift.” I wasn’t saying that to flatter him. I don’t flatter people just for the sake of making them feel good. Empty words are worthless. I mean that with all my heart. Even though I’m nottoo sure how I feel about Leo right now, I couldn’t be dishonest about how his speech affected me, and what I thought about it.

“Wow. Thanks. That... That means a lot.”

“Does it?” I can’t help but say. I button my lips down, wishing I hadn’t.

“It does. Surely you know I think a lot of you, Nora. I value your opinion more than anyone else honestly. I’ve... Grown used to having you around and not just that, I like it. I am sad that tonight is our last speaking engagement.”

“Yeah. It’s sad for me too,” I say, although in my heart I’m trying to figure out how I can ask him the things I want to know. It’s true, I’m sad that our time doing this together has come to an end, but part of me thinks that maybe it’s for the best.

“What’s on your mind, Nora? There’s something going on.”

I like that he notices, that he can tell, and that he cares enough to ask more than once to try to find out.

Maybe that’s how he’ll feel when I ask him to explain things to me. Maybe he’ll be glad that I care. I know I’m just telling myself that, but it couldn’t possibly be true.

“I didn’t know you had leukemia,” I say, and it feels like all the air gets sucked out of the car.

“Yeah. I... I’ve wanted to tell you that for a while.”

“And why didn’t you?” I say, and I try not to sound aggressive or accusatory.

“I guess because... It makes me seem weak.”

“But you can’t help the fact that you had cancer. It doesn’t have anything to do with you. Or your character.”

“But I’m a man. I’m the protector. I’m the provider. I defend you, I take care of you, and I can’t do that if I’m sick. And, for a long time, I was really, really sick.”

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