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Eventually, I whispered, "Why me?" "Hmm?" His fingertip traced the ridge of each of my cheekbones. "What do you mean?" "Why pursue me. What gave you the confidence again?" He stroked downward along my neck.
Pausing on my shoulder where his other fingers joined the play, gliding over my arm.
My eyes fluttered open at his fingertips brushing against my forehead. When I looked at him again, he was worrying his lower lip. I swallowed and blinked away my unshed tears, smiling at him. "It's okay, Chris. I understand, and I'm with you all the way.
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Life kept dealing me blows. This one had knocked me flat on my back, and I couldn't find the strength to get back up again. I fell asleep with tears drying on my face and my heart feeling crushed. The next morning, I found cans of chicken noodle soup and clear juice stocked in the kitchen; tissues and pain relievers in the bathroom; and bedding folded on the ottoman.
But there was no sign of Chris.
I took several deep breaths. Closed my eyes. Ever since I'd discovered his list, I'd been afraid to learn where his darker side came from. Dreaded that knowing the truth could lead to finding out he'd want more from me than I was willing to give. Able to give.