I squirm in my chair. “I don’t ever want to take advantage of you, and I know what you said—that it didn’t have anything to do with therapy—but I guess I’m just worried you were vulnerable and?—”
She shakes her head so hard that her curls bounce side to side. “Fisher, let’s be real, attraction and sexual chemistry have never been our problem. Communication is, and I should’ve been clearer.” She drops her half-eaten piece of toast back on the plate. “I want you. Iloveyou. It didn’t take therapy for me to know those facts, but those two sessions have already helped me to see that I’m holding myself back out of fear. A fear I really have no grounds to stand on. And I think…” She pauses,worrying her bottom lip between her teeth. “I think I’ve been subconsciously punishing myself for years—that if I allowed myself to be happy and move on, it would mean I forgot about her.”
My face falls. “Oh, Ebba.”
She looks down at her lap. “Believe me, I know how silly it sounds. And it was entirely unconscious on my part. I know I still have a lot of work to do on myself and this is only the beginning. But I’m already beginning to realize a lot about myself. And, Fisher, there will never be another man that I love the way I love you.”
Fuck.
Her words hit me straight in the chest.
“So, no,” she goes on. “I have no regrets about last night. Not one single doubt.”
I lean across the table and capture her face between my hands. “I fucking love you.” I press my mouth to hers.
When I pull away, she keeps a hold on me with her fingers laced in the hair on the back of my head. “I want to stress that I’m not healed overnight. I’m sure I’m still going to have my moments. But I’m finally ready to choose what makes me happy and that’s you. But please, don’t give up on me if things get hard.”
I wet my lips with my tongue, wanting to wipe away the trace of insecurity I see in her eyes. “Never,” I vow.
I didn’t stop believing in us before and I won’t stop now.
CHAPTER 43
FISHER
Isit possible for someone to die from an over abundance of happiness? It doesn’t seem real to be this blissed out and yet I am.
“Turn that way,” I direct Ebba. “The light’s better.”
She does as she’s told, posing in the outfit she spent a decent chunk of time curating this morning before we left the hotel to stroll through the streets of Rome. One day it’ll be nice to settle down and not travel so much for work, but at this point in my life I love it.
Ebba adjusts the sleeves of her green top with some sort of feathery detailing at the wrists. On anyone else the sweater might look ridiculous, but I’m certain Ebba can pull off anything. Her cane sparkles in the morning light. She’s never posted photos with her cane before, but a week ago she posted a video to her social media accounts, talking about her accident and her chronic pain and how most days she feels better to use her cane. Her vulnerability made me fall that much more for her.
“Check these out.” I pass the phone to her and let her scroll through the photos I took.
“There’s plenty to work with here. Thank you.” She beams up at me and it does something funny to my chest, finally being on the receiving end of her brilliant smile again.
Tossing my arm over her shoulder, I pull her close to my side and press my lips to the top of her head. She smells like vanilla and something warm that reminds me of home.
If she’s bothered by me being overly affectionate, she doesn’t show it. In fact, she wraps her arm around my middle. I’m sure we look like one of those grossly in love couples, but I can’t bring myself to care. I’ve waited way too long for this moment.
“Do you think Noah or Elias has a chance of winning Roland Garros?”
Roland Garros is the next Grand Slam, starting at the end of the month in France.
“They both have a pretty good chance. I wouldn’t be surprised if they’re not playing each other in the finals.”
Noah and Elias have both been putting in the work. Noah’s extra motivated by the fact that he wants to retire, and I think Elias is motivated by the idea of Noah leaving.
“Wouldn’t that be hysterical,” she laughs softly. “I suppose it makes it both easier and harder in a way.”
“It does,” I agree.
Noah’s my best friend, and the player I coach, so of course I want to see him win. But Elias has become my friend too and now he’s my brother-in-law.
“Six months is coming up,” she says softly, pulling my thoughts away from tennis.
“It is,” I hedge.