Page 61 of Make You Love Me
“You’re not eating?” he asks, accepting the plate.
“I’m not hungry.”
Seemingly unconcerned, he lifts the fork and stabs at the eggs. “What did you want to say?” he says without looking up.
It’s probably better that way. Seeing the pain and bitter disconnect in his eyes won’t help me get through this. Folding my legs under me, I grasp the warm mug for comfort and begin.
“I’m not sure, actually.” I swallow down the nerves creeping in and remind myself that I asked for this conversation. “I guess I wanted to say I’m sorry.”
“For which part?” He doesn’t stop eating to grace me with a glance.
“The parts that hurt you.”
“Which ones? Because there seem to be many.”
“All of them.”
His hand pauses over the plate as he considers the implications of my answer. “What does that mean?” His eyes cut to me for a moment before returning to the plate on his lap.
Years of flimsy excuses and regrets flood my thoughts, making my explanation spill out faster than I can process it. “It means I regret the way I’ve put your needs behind my own. I hate that it took almost losing you to recognize what I had. I’m sorry forlying to you. Although I was convinced it would help you recover, it was wrong. But I’d do it again if it is necessary to learn what I now know. You fell in love with someone who doesn’t deserve you.” Emotion fills the void in my chest, and I inhale sharply. “It took me longer than it should to realize how truly special you are.”
The tension is so thick in the air I can almost taste it. I want to reach out, but the rigid shape of his shoulders and the tick in his jaw keep me planted in fear. Maybe it’s too late for an apology or too soon. Either way, the words would have eaten me alive if I didn’t say them. Now, at least, he knows how I feel.
He moves the plate from his lap to the table and rubs the back of his neck. “I need a moment.”
“Of course.” I rise on unsteady knees and retreat to the kitchen to give him space.
My hands tremble as I wash dishes and keep a watchful eye over him. The last thing he needs is more stress. I’m the person assigned to his care with the sole responsibility of making his life easier. And what have I done? Shackle his recovery with pain, anger, and an agonizing reminder of what could have been and how I destroyed it.
Chapter 17
Jordan
My mind can’t focus on any one thing Nora said. It’s all too shocking to process. How many times have I wished for her to care for me as I do for her…or used to. Fury and confusion are blocking my ability to determine if I feel the same as I once did.
Do I still love her? Can I trust that her confession is from the heart and not from guilt?
She’s kept me at arm’s length for five years, never letting me in, and it feels that way today. Even after admitting her regrets, it seems like there’s more she’s holding back. Although, at this point, I can’t imagine what that could be.
While she’s upset about hurting me, I can’t tell if love is behind it. Anyone can have empathy. Love is something else entirely, and she’s never seemed to have any for me.
“I need to know,” I say without turning around, but loud enough for her to hear. “Did I ever mean anything to you? More than someone you liked to sleep with?”
When she doesn’t respond immediately, I twist to find her in the kitchen, her expression frozen in shock—eyes wide and lipsslightly parted. Recovering, she dries her hands on a towel and crosses the room to sit beside me. She takes a moment to gather herself, staring into her clasped hands on her lap. I’ve never seen her like this—introspective, insecure, vulnerable. Her armor is cracked and faltering, and I’m intrigued.
“For a long time, no. But there’s a lot about my past you don’t know,” she adds quickly when I puff out a breath and shake my head at the confirmation of my suspicions. “Things that stripped me of seeing love as a possibility for me.”
“Like what?”
Her lips roll into a tip-lipped grin. “Can we save that for another day?”
“No,” I snap, not meaning to, but I’m tired of everyone tiptoeing around issues. “I deserve to know why you treated me like your whore for the last half-decade.”
“Jordan,” she tries to calm my raging temper, but answers are the only thing that can help with that. And even then, there’s no guarantee getting them won’t make it worse.
“Nora, you’ve never given me the real you. For just once, I beg you, be honest with me.”
“I’ve given you everything I could until this point.”
