Page 90 of Once Smitten, Twice Shy

“I never thought I’d do that,” he says quietly. “Because…based on…you know, how it went for me, when I tried dating…I sort of gave up hoping I’d ever get there.”

My heart aches. It’s taken everything in me during our time together not to challenge Will’s notions about what I think he should hope in, about the kind of love a deserving someone could give him and how much they’d love what he’d give them in return. It’s nearly painful now, keeping myself quiet, but I do. Even if, since the moment we started, I’ve sworn to myself I would do as much as I could toshowWill that the person worthy of him would love him romantically and feel just as loved by him. As much as I want him to see the possibilities that I see, to hope for himself the way I hope, I can’t do that for him. I’ve done what I could, as we’ve practiced, and that’s as far as I can build the bridge toward his belief in what’s possible—the other half has to come from him.

Will peers up at me, and his eyes hold mine. “So when you…” His throat works with a swallow. “When, out of all the places you could have chosen for us to go, you picked the drive-in, it…it messed with me. It got me thinking, and it’s not the first time my mind had gone there, Juliet, but it sure as hell felt like the closest it came to wondering if—” His voice breaks off. He clenches his jaw tight. “I’m gonna say something, and if it’s not something you want to hear, I need you to promise you’ll tell me that, all right?”

My heart crashes against my ribs. “Promise,” I whisper.

He holds my gaze as he says, “I’ve spent a long time believing, telling myself, that this wasn’t something worth hoping I could have with someone, that it wasn’t worth trying for again, after being…hurt, so many times, when I did.”

I nod, because I know that. He’s trusted me with that truth.

“But…when I’m with you, Juliet…” He stares down at our hands, his thumb sweeping gently across my skin. “I doubt that belief. When I’m with you…I want to try, to hope. With…you.”

My heart’s flying, hope soaring through me.

“Thing is…” He clears his throat roughly. “Thing is, I don’t know, if that old belief goes out for good, what would take its place. I don’t know if it will be everything you’ve told me your heart wants, or if we’ll still end up where I’ve ended up before—you feeling like, despite my best effort, I’ve only offered you a shadow of that.”

I can’t take another moment of him doubting himself like this, not when he’s shown me just how capable he is of demonstrating love—familial, platonic, romantic—when he’s shown me love in so many ways, even if it was under the guise of practice. “Will, I wouldneverfeel that—”

“Please,” he says roughly. “Hear me out.”

I bite my tongue, because it’s the only way I can keep myself quiet, and nod.

“If I were a stronger man,” he says, “I’d wait until I knew. Until I could tell you crystal clear that I’m sure, when I offered you everything you deserve and desire, Juliet, that you’d feel it, that you’d never doubt its power or purpose…”

His eyes search mine. “But I’m not. I’m not strong enough. I can’t stand to spend another second in your presence without you knowing that I might not be sure yet, if my heart’s love will be enough for you—” He brings my hand, clasped inside his, againsthis chest. “But every corner of that heart, in all its imperfection,isyours, if you want it. And if you don’t…well, I’ll more than understand.”

I stare at him, my heart glowing, tears pricking my eyes. Joy bursts through me, like water from a dam, held-back hope rushing out and spilling through me. Then, fast behind it, threatening to swallow it up: fear.

Iamafraid. I am as afraid as I knew I would be, when it came to this moment, to realizing I had fallen for someone again. Because, while the Old Juliet used to run after romance, arms wide for wild love, believing that would always be enough, the Old Juliet didn’t know heartbreak. She didn’t know the debilitating doubt, the panic-inducing pain, that could come when it fell apart.

This time, faced with the possibility of having what I’ve hoped for, what my heart has finally healed enough to ache for again, Iknowwhat it will be like, if I give myself to this, and it ends.

It will be devastating.

But.

I will survive it. Because I am strong—stronger than I gave myself credit for at first, when my life fell apart last year. If I have learned anything in these almost nine months, it is that I can survive so much more than I knew, that even when pain knocks me down, I can get back up.

So, yes, I am afraid, at the thought of finally giving in to all I feel for Will, at hearing his humble honesty that he worries I might see him as having fallen short, feeling that anxiety inside myself that he might see me as having fallen short for him, too.

But when I started this journey with Will, I made a promise to him—that we’d both be brave, that we’d both get on that bike and wobble together. I promised myself that there’d be no more hiding from the joys of life, the thrill of love, out of fear of the pain that losing them might bring.

Quiet at first, I press my hand, still tucked inside his, hard over his heart. And then I tell him, my voice steady, my heart brave, “I want this. I wantyou.”

His eyes dart between mine. His hand wraps tight around my fingers, where beneath them I feel his heart beating fast against his chest. “You do?”

I nod, my fingers sinking into his shirt, tugging him toward me. “So much. And I need you to hear me, Will. Youarea strong man. It takes strength, courage, to open up your heart, when you’re afraid it could get hurt. It wouldn’t be strength that held you silent about how you feel until you were sure you could trust I’d see everything in your heart that you want me to—it would be fear.” I press my hand against his heart. “You’re brave, Will. And you make me feel safe to be brave, even when I’m afraid, too. Because Iamafraid. I’m afraid of how much you mean to me, how much I want this, not because I don’t trust you or believe in you, Will, but because of how much Ido.”

“Jules,” he whispers brokenly.

I cup his face, my thumb sweeping tenderly along his cheek. “Will.”

The moment his name leaves my mouth, an SUV two spots down pulls out, leaving an opening for his truck.

We glance to the open space, then back to each other, and smile.

Thank you, universe.

---