Chapter 73: 3 Months Later Part 3

A future without Adrian would shatter me regardless, but if it happened then, after I willingly handed over my future, I’m not sure I’d ever recover be able to pick myself up again. 

The thought of it curdles my stomach. 

“Sweetheart,” Adrian rubs my cheek soothingly. “Whatever you need from me, I will gladly give it to you if it alleviates your fears that I’m going to wake up one morning and no longer want you by my side.” 

I meet his gaze head-on. “I love you.” 

My confession hangs in the space between us, as fragile as the heart that’s now beating in my throat.

“I just need to know that you love me too,” I whisper. “And I know it’s stupid. I know you’ve already proved your devotion to me, but I just need to hear it. I need to know that I’m not just uprooting my life for desire or want or…” I swallow. “I just need to hear it. I need to know.” 

Dead air’s my only answer. 

Adrian stares at me like I’m a pair of semi-truck headlights gunning straight for him, and I’ve never seen him scared, but right now, he looks terrified.

Of me. 

I swear I can feel time splintering – every second, every millisecond stretching the silence until it’s unbearably tight over my skin. 

He swallows. “I…” 

The first time I render him speechless, and it’s when I need his words more than ever. 

His gaze flickers away from me. “Sweetheart, I…” 

“Just three words,” I say, as if I’m trying to coax them out of his throat myself. “That’s all I need. If we’re truly meant for each other, then –” 

“We are meant for each other.”

“Then tell me you love me like I love you.” I clasp a hand over his cheek, and he flinches – actually flinches – at my touch. 

Oh God. 

The pain that washes over me is not a dull ache or an irritating sting. It’s a sucker-punch to the gut. 

He doesn’t love me. 

He desires me. He wants me. 

But he doesn’t love me. 

I’m disentangling my limbs from his before I’ve even made the conscious decision to, but he catches my waist as I try to rise from his lap. 

“Sweetheart, wait.” There’s a desperate edge to his voice now. “Those words…I don’t…” His brows crease, which isn’t a great sign, but I think I prefer confusion to fear. “Love’s not an emotion I can identify with.” 

I blink down at him. 

Out of anyone else’s mouth, it’d be a laughable excuse, but this is Adrian, and Adrian skims the surface of some emotions, and dives into the deep end of others. 

Perhaps it was stupid to think this one might be the latter. 

“Desire, I understand. But love…” He shakes his head. 

My voice’s pleading as I ask, “You said you’d never truly desired anything before me. Can’t love work the same way? Can’t I help you understand it?” 

“I’m not sure I’m capable of it.” 

I flinch. 

“But what I feel for you, sweetheart –” His pitch eyes zero in on me, the light of the flames reflected in them. “It’s more. It’s not some vague, fleeting emotion. You’ve consumed me. You’ve crawled into my brain and infected every inch of it. You’ve turned me into a man obsessed. What I have for you…” He pauses. Searching for the right word. “It’s not love, it's limerence.” His grip on my waist tightens. “It’s not patient. It’s not always kind. It’s not selfless. It’s as dark and twisted as I am.” 

And it’s not love. 

“Do you understand?” From the chair, he gazes up at me. Pleading. Imploring. “Tell me you understand, sweetheart.” 

A quiet, almost comforting numbness circulates through me, soothing the wounds of rejection. 

My eyes meet his. “I understand.” 

And I do – I understand. 

For the first time, I understand where Adrian and I stand more than he does. 

Limerence. 

But not love.