Fall for Me by Claudia Burgoa

Chapter Thirty-Nine

Hunter

As her defined eyebrow arches,she gives me an I know everything about younow kind of look.

What is it that she knows? I stare at her, mute. How can I be out of words? I had thought about this moment ever since I left her apartment. I’m confused by her “us.” What do her texts mean? Does she mean let’s try to date or let’s marry tomorrow?

“Who let you in?” I fire the first question as I study her.

She dangles a key chain, placing it back in her purse. “Fitz gave me the keys.”

Setting her tote bag on top of the green velvet mat of the pool table, she starts pulling boxes. I stand up, marching closer.

Carefully, she opens a black velvet box where the bracelet I gifted her for her birthday appears. The charms are already attached to it.

“Do you recognize this?”

I nod.

“Let’s call it evidence.”

Then, she starts opening the rest of the small boxes. Tons of charms I bought during my trips.

“I didn’t get it,” she says, picking up the lucky charm and hooking it to the bracelet. “Why you’d be sending random trinkets. Other than you were thinking of me.”

She picks up the Eiffel Tower, attaching it. “The place I told you I was dying to visit.” Then, the yin and yang charm. “Now, why would you send me the symbol of balance, Hunter?”

I shrug.

“This was halfway through your trip. You felt compelled to tell me you were reaching that place.”

“It’s a charm.”

She places the Celtic knot in the middle of the table. “Would you like to tell me more about this?”

“It’s a Celtic knot.”

“This knot symbolizes love,” she corrects me, tracing the two connected hearts with her fingers.

“Each charm you sent wasn’t just because you saw it and thought I’d like it.” She sighs. “You were right. That day, the night of my birthday, everything changed. Your letter was a premonition. We wouldn’t be the same again.”

She gives me a small box. I open it. Two puzzle pieces with an inscription. One says You are my andthe other says missing piece.

“Love is a hard concept for me to grasp.”

The corners of her lips stretch. “Falling in love is an art. It takes time to get to know someone so deeply that you can finish their sentences or know what they are thinking without them speaking.” She wiggles her nose. “But we had that serendipitous moment where our souls were able to have a glimpse of ‘what if.’ I think that’s what you said. No one before that day had seen me at my lowest point. I guess you saw the real me, and the scary part is that you liked it.”

She touches the base of her neck with her left hand, swallowing. “I felt that fire in my soul. You created it.” She walks to me, extending her hand. I take it, feeling it. “We produce it every time we are around each other.” She pauses. “I. Love. You.” Her voice is firm, sweet, and honest.

“I can’t tell you when I fell in love with you. Definitely not when we met, but somewhere in between our fake honeymoon and while you were away.” She moves her hand over the table, caressing each charm. “Every night I had the need to text you, and every day I went to check the mail for your packages. It wasn’t the size, nor the price. It was that even when you were far from me, you still thought of me.

“I wasn’t in love with the idea of you. I was falling in love with the man who made sure I saw that he was thinking of me. That no matter the distance between us, he was next to me.” She sighs. “I’ll never be ready to handle you. You’re too intense.”

My eyes close, and I take a step back and exhale before opening my eyes.

“So, we’ll have to navigate this life with big warning signs.”

“Warning signs?” I crook an eyebrow.

“Explosive, unstable, insecure, always handle with care.” She smiles. “Those are my labels. Yours are: bigger than life, spontaneous, and not sure how to explain that thing you like to do the most.”

“What thing?”

“Surprise the hell out of me. I don’t like surprises.”

I nod several times. “I can see that being a problem we’d have to work on often. Maybe you should be prepared to receive surprises at least twice a day?”

She angles her head, laughing. “I can get used to it.” Her hand extends, reaching out to mine.

“I shouldn’t have pretended everything was fine when I saw my parents, that I understood their behavior, or felt guilty for not being able to help my mother.” She shakes her head. “I shoved everything away, letting it rot until one little thing created a major catastrophe.”

“It wasn’t little.”

“But it was one thing that, as a single situation, could’ve been easier to assimilate,” she continues. “I didn’t sleep all night because my dear sister shouldn’t cook—ever. She came barging in looking for tampons. My reactivity to emotions was too high.” She chuckles.

“High is mildly putting it,” I joke, and a humorous smile turns up the corner of her mouth.

“So you’re not ready for us?”

She nods.

“But you’re here.”

“I might never be ready. There’ll be a smidgen of guilt inside my heart that will never go away.” She squeezes my hand. “Like I said, we have to work for this. It’ll be hard. Some days, it’ll feel like we’re taking five steps forward and a couple back.”

She touches the heart charm, her eyes drifting around the table. Then, she looks into my eyes. “But as I learn how to dance through life, I want to do it with you by my side. It’s easier. You make it fun.”

“Are you sure?” I ask, embracing everything she’s saying. My voice shakes, my heart beats fast. “You’re aware that I’m still impulsive.”

She nods in response.

“That one day I’ll buy a ring. I’ll ask you to move in with me, to be my wife.” I pause, walking right next to her and taking her in my arms. “And I hope that you’ll marry me and we will move to the house I bought for us more than a year ago.”

“As long as you understand that I might send you daily texts asking if we are okay and if I’m still enough. That I’ll need to hear those words from you often.”

I nod, agreeing to whatever she wants as long as we can finally be together.

“It’s not because you haven’t loved me enough, but because some days are harder to live with myself than others.”

“Sounds like we can compromise, Miss Beesley. Should we seal the deal?”

“This won’t be easy or simple,” she says as I pull her closer to me, tightening my grip. She shivers when I brush her lips with my knuckles. “Are you up for the ride?”

I look at those green, expecting eyes. Glad to know we’re taking the next step. That we are both aware that our happy ending is going to have ups and downs. But it’ll be our story. “Why wouldn’t I? Have you heard that most people have more fun on a roller coaster than on a fucking merry-go-round?”

Without waiting for her response, I take her face in my hands. For a few beats, I stare, studying the brown freckle in her left eye. The birthmark on the side of her nose and her heart-shaped lips. “You’re the most gorgeous woman I’ve ever known.”

Leaning down, I tilt my head pressing my mouth to hers. She wraps her arms around my neck, and we kiss slowly, swaying. That’s how we stay for a long time. Being in each other’s arms, letting her know with every stroke of my tongue that I love her. That I’ll never leave her. That she has all of me. Just as I feel the chaos inside her mind finally calming, as much as her love for me.

She’s all mine.